


Diplomacy

by DeandraAlleyan



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Eothiriel - Freeform, F/M, First Meetings, How They Met
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 09:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 43,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27848730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeandraAlleyan/pseuds/DeandraAlleyan
Summary: While in Rohan for Theoden’s funeral, Imrahil makes an unusual request of Eomer that has far-reaching consequences.Complete in 14 chapters.
Relationships: Éomer Éadig/Lothíriel, Éowyn/Faramir (Son of Denethor II)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _**Opening Note: I couldn’t find anywhere anything that gives specifics about Imrahil’s wife – name, alive/dead, died when, etc. and since quite some time ago I got a plot bunny off a story summary for an Eomer/Lothiriel story (possibly a story called A Jewel of Dol Amroth by EruntaleofRohan over on fanfiction.net, but I don’t know for certain), I realized I could use those vagaries about Imrahil’s wife to steer the story. So here is yet another story about Eomer and Lothiriel meeting and falling in love.** _
> 
> _**This is one of my earlier stories, written in my first year of writing LoTR fan fiction. Unfortunately, the chapters are shorter than most of the multi-chapter stories I've already posted.** _

**Chapter 1**

“Welcome, Eomer King!” Aragorn said, stepping forward. 

The King of Rohan had just come from Edoras with an escort party to carry home the body of their slain king, Theoden. As they were to depart the next day and it was already nearing sundown, after Aragorn embraced Eomer, and greetings were made all around, Aragorn had servants usher Eomer and Elfhelm to their quarters to wash off the dust of the road. He had kept supper to a simple affair of family and friends, knowing the party from Rohan would be weary, and eager to turn in early for the long trip back home. The main body of the Rohirrim had camped on the Pelennor for the short overnight stay at Minas Tirith.

As expected, supper was accompanied only by friendly conversation. During the course of it, Eomer inquired, “Where is Prince Imrahil? I had thought he intended to travel with us.”

Aragorn nodded, and gestured to Faramir to respond. “My uncle was detained somewhat, but he sent word on ahead that he would join us tomorrow, or somewhere along the road.”

“It will be good to see him again,” Eomer acknowledged. “He has been a good friend.” He paused thoughtfully a moment, remembering the debt he owed Imrahil for discovering Eowyn was still alive, and getting aid for her during the War. 

Pulling himself from his reverie he glanced up at the steward, who was soon to be his brother-in-law, and asked mischievously, “So, have you had sufficient time to reconsider marrying my sister?”

Faramir smiled benignly and answered, “There is not enough time in my entire life for that to happen. I fear you will not be rid of me so easily!”

Eomer laughed appreciatively, then told him, “Very well, but do not say I did not warn you – and give you ample opportunity to run!”

“Now, now, my Lord,” Elfhelm interjected, “clearly the man is in love. Do not continue to attempt dissuading him...or we will never be rid of your sister!”

Eomer chuckled again, pleased that Elfhelm felt comfortable enough to make such a comment. He knew full well that Elfhelm thought quite highly of Eowyn and would defend her to death against anyone.

“Not to worry,” Eomer assured the man. “Eowyn has it in her head to marry him, despite his unfortunate birthplace, and you know how difficult she can be to sway. She will have him whether he wants her or not!”

Faramir eyed the two men with a raised eyebrow, and said, “Might I point out, my friends, that Eowyn and I will not wed for several more months. _You_ have to live with her until then. You might wish to guard your words in front of her betrothed, lest he let slip what he has overheard here this night!”

Eomer and Elfhelm roared with laughter. “Well said, brother! You make a very good point!”

Rising from the table, Eomer added, “I think perhaps I’d best turn in before the wine loosens my tongue any more and I live to regret it! If you will excuse me.”

“Of course,” Aragorn replied. “Sleep well. We will see you in the morning.”

Elfhelm rose also and accompanied Eomer from the room, and the remainder of the party broke up shortly after that.

xxxxx

Even rising before the sun was full up, Eomer could tell that it would be a warm day. Rohan was hot during the summer months, but nothing like Gondor. He would be glad to return home, where at least he could count on a fairly cooling breeze most of the time.

They ate a quick breakfast, and then the funeral cortege set out, along with the mourners joining them from Minas Tirith. The Eorlingas were gathered and ready to meet them as they left the city, and the group soon settled into the proscribed positions for each person.

There had yet been no sign of Imrahil’s party from Dol Amroth, but they would be traveling slowly to accommodate the wain carrying Theoden’s body, the wagons with supplies, as well as the carriages along for the ladies. It should not be difficult for his party to overtake them along the way.

Despite the slow pace, however, Imrahil did not arrive until their fourth day on the road. They had stopped for the midday meal when a messenger came, bearing word that the Dol Amrothians would join them shortly, so they tarried longer. A quick meal was eaten by the newcomers and then the processional continued on.

Eomer had met two of Imrahil’s sons during the War, but his eldest son and his daughter had remained in Dol Amroth to defend that city and watch over its people. Once again, Elphir, the eldest, had remained behind to oversee the running of things in his father’s absence, but now Lothiriel joined her father.

Brief introductions had been made upon their arrival, but as the lady rode in a carriage, Eomer saw little more of her after that. Faramir, apparently, was quite close to his cousin, and he temporarily gave up his mount to ride with her and visit. A few times during the trek, Imrahil’s family joined the king of Rohan for supper, but Eomer had little opportunity to get a sense of the girl. He was rather taken aback to learn that she did not know how to ride a horse, hence her continual presence in the carriage. Amrothos had imparted that knowledge about his sister, explaining that horses were not a big part of their life at the seacoast and so Lothiriel had never happened to learn.

Privately, it was Eomer’s opinion that he would never have learned to ride either if it meant riding in the silly side-saddle fashion employed by Gondorian women. As appalling as it was not to know how to ride, he could hardly blame her not wanting to ride like that.

The journey was hot, dusty and long, but at length they came in sight of Edoras, gleaming on the hill. Much of the town came out to respectfully line the roadway as Theoden’s body passed. The guests followed Eomer up to Meduseld, while the soldiers and wain moved off to another location. Gamling was waiting, and efficiently got everyone shown to their dwellings for the duration of their visit, and most retired to rest from the trip.

Over the next three days, Rohan prepared for Theoden’s funeral. Though much of the funeral ceremony itself was done in Rohirric, the visitors got enough sense of what was taking place to adequately follow along, and finally the deed was done. Theoden lay in the Barrowfield alongside his ancestors.

At length, the mourners gathered to the Golden Hall and, in the way of the Eorlingas, put away their sorrow. Instead, they paid homage to Theoden, for the full life he had lived and the valor with which he died. As part of the feast, Eomer announced the trothplight of his sister to Faramir, and more celebration ensued at that happy news.

xxxxx

During the subsequent four days, Eomer’s guests relaxed, but made ready for their departure to various destinations. And by the 14th, only a few remained, including Faramir and Imrahil’s family.

Now that things had quieted down, Eomer took the opportunity to seek counsel with Imrahil about his role as king. He still felt very unprepared for the responsibility which had befallen him, and Imrahil’s sage guidance was helpful and reassuring to him.

While they paused for a midday meal, Imrahil seized the moment to approach his friend with a request. “Eomer, I wonder if I might ask a very great favor of you?”

“Certainly, my friend. Anything that is in my power, I will grant you,” Eomer readily responded.

Imrahil stood and paced the room thoughtfully, searching for the words of explanation that he needed. With a sigh, he seated himself again and gazed at the king, “I do not know if you have taken much notice of my daughter. I suspect you have not, what with all you have had to do these past few weeks. But there is a sorrow and despondency that rests upon her, that she cannot quite shake.”

Eomer took a bite of buttered bread and eyed Imrahil curiously, waiting for him to finish and make his petition. Another sigh escaped the older man, and it was evident that Lothiriel was not the only one who sorrowed. “My wife died some ten months ago of a fever. Lothiriel tended her in her illness and was at her bedside when she passed. On the heels of that was this War, and all the fear and worry that has hung over everyone’s heads. She had to watch her father and two brothers ride off, never knowing if she would see them again. And she remained behind, to stand at her brother’s side, hoping to keep Dol Amroth safe in my absence. Of course, she is overjoyed at our victory, and the safe return of her family, but even so, she lost a beloved cousin and a good many friends.”

He lifted his eyes to Eomer’s. “Would it be too much to ask that she be allowed to remain in Rohan for a time? Dol Amroth holds too many painful memories for her at present, and I think a change of scenery might help her get back on course. Might make her smile again.”

“I have seen your daughter smile, Imrahil. Are you certain your concern is not unfounded?” Eomer asked.

“She smiles, but it does not reach her eyes, and it does not come from her heart. She is a lady of the royal court – she knows well how to hide her feelings from those around her. But she cannot entirely hide them from her father or brothers.”

Eomer pondered his words, and then nodded. “We would be happy to have her remain here as long as you or she wishes it. She may return with us when we go to Minas Tirith for Eowyn’s wedding, or stay longer, through the winter.”

“Thank you. I will tell her later today. Do not be surprised if she balks at the suggestion. She will insist she is fine, and that she is needed at home, to care for us helpless men, but I truly think this will do her much good. She needs time away to regain her strength.”

As predicted, Lothiriel did argue the point when her father announced it to her. They were strolling in the garden adjacent to Meduseld, as Imrahil was certain it was unwise to bring this up in public.

“Father, I am fine! Why do you insist on this? This trip to Rohan is sufficient. I assure you, I will be well again and regain my spirits by the time we are home.”

“Thiri, please do this for me. I feel so guilty that I have not been able to better shield and protect you from the cares of the world. It would please me to give you this time away, to think of nothing more than amusement and pleasant company. Besides, you and Eowyn have become good friends, have you not? Likely she would welcome your presence to help her prepare for the wedding, and provide guidance on life in Gondor.”

Lothiriel knew her father was using Eowyn as a means to help break down her resistance to the idea, but she could not deny that Eowyn had hinted she would welcome all the help Lothiriel could give her. And Faramir had been encouraging her to take Eowyn under her wing and assist her.

With a rueful shake of her head, she gave him an annoyed smile. “Very well, I will remain here. And I will have such a fine time that I will be far too busy to write to you and you will mourn my absence and regret insisting on this!”

He gave a laugh and kissed her head. “I will risk this torment if I can see you smile again – and mean it. Besides, you may well be of help to Eomer also.”

She lifted an eyebrow questioningly at him and he added, “You are well schooled in political matters and diplomancy. He is feeling his way in this new role where he was thrust so unexpectedly. I will recommend that he seek your counsel when I am gone. You know how things are done in Gondor and I am certain you can advise him well.”

“Ah. So now you are trying to make me be agreeable to this by suggesting I am here as a goodwill ambassador?”

He gave another laugh, “You know me – I will use whatever method works best!” Sobering, he told her, “Please, Thiri, enjoy your time here. Let your heart be healed. Indulge your interest in different places and cultures. Come back to us refreshed.”

“Very well, Father, for you.” She kissed his cheek.

xxxxx

Eowyn was ecstatic when the decision was announced at supper, though Amrothos sulked a bit at the news. He had always been close to his sister, and would miss her company more than the others. When he at last caught her alone later, he pouted, “Just do not fall in love with some Rohirric soldier and refuse to come home, Thiri. It will be dreadfully dull without you around.”

She gave him a hug and laughed. “That isn’t likely to happen, Amrothos. How could I ever leave you, or the sea? If I fall in love with a Rohirric soldier, he will just have to move to Dol Amroth to live and become a Swan Knight!”

Knowing they would not see her for a while, her brothers spent much time with her in the days prior to their departure for home. Lothiriel fell into her habit, from long years of practice, of hiding her true feelings on the matter. Why her father thought the pain of separation from her family would ease the pain of loss of her mother and Boromir was beyond her comprehension. As much as she was fond of Eowyn and fascinated by Rohan, already homesickness was taking her, and she had spent more than one night weeping into her pillow at the thought of being apart from those she loved for several months.

Faramir, alone, seemed to know the pangs of emotion she was experiencing. He made it a point to tell her, “I know this is not what you would wish, but as it is decided, do try to enjoy it. Eowyn is very happy that you are to remain and help her, and I know you well enough to know that you can delight in this experience if you choose to do so. You will be home all too soon, and you may never have another opportunity for such an adventure.”

He gave her a hug, which she returned tightly. “I know all that, Faramir, but it is still difficult. I have never been away from home for any length of time, at least not without someone of my family with me.”

“Then remind yourself that you still have family with you, for Eowyn will soon be like a sister to you!” he teased.

She let out a laugh. “Yes, I suppose that is so. Do not worry, cousin. I will make sure your fair maid is knowledgeable of our ways before your wedding day!”

Pinching her nose, he assured her, “You know full well it matters not to me. I love Eowyn just as she is...but it is important to her that she not do anything that might be embarrassing to me. Teach her what she needs to know, Thiri, but please do not let her change who she is.”

She giggled at him and covered her grin with a hand. Teasingly she told him, “Who would ever have thought YOU would turn so sappy and lovesick!”

He grabbed her and began to tickle her. “You laugh now, wench, but when _you_ are in love I think you will be just as lovesick as me!”

Wriggling and squealing as she tried to escape his torment, she exclaimed, “Stop! Stop! Have mercy on me, cousin!” He let her slip free and then they fell into one another’s arms.

“In truth, Faramir,” she whispered fiercely in his ear, “it does my heart good to see you so happy! Eowyn may ask anything of me that she wishes, if it will add to that happiness.”

xxxxx

At length, the time of departure came and a tearful farewell was said. Finally, Imrahil mounted his horse, with Eomer’s assurance for the safety and well-being of his daughter ringing in his ears. They waved a last salute and the Dol Amroth party turned for home.

Eowyn kept Lothiriel occupied most of that day, talking of the wedding and various things she wanted to know about Gondor and its customs. Not until after the evening meal was Lothiriel able to slip away to the garden. She sat watching the sun set, tears slipping down her cheeks.

When she had not been seen for some time, Eomer went to check on his guest. He had heard she liked the garden, so he checked there first. His footfall was so soft, she did not hear him approach, and when he spoke, she started with surprise.

“I did not mean to sneak up on you, Lothiriel. I wanted to make sure you were...well.” He shifted awkwardly, not used to this sort of thing.

Wiping hastily at her face, she kept her eyes averted as she answered, “Yes, Eomer, I am well. Do not be alarmed by my tears. I cannot help but miss my family and home, but I will see them soon enough. I just need time to adjust.”

He hesitantly sat down on the bench next to her. “If there is anything we can do to make your visit more pleasant, and to ease your...homesickness, I hope you will not hesitate to make it known.”

Lothiriel turned to him knowingly. “My father told you, did he not, why he thought I needed to be here.”

It wasn’t so much a question as a statement, and Eomer shrugged. “He felt you needed the time away from painful memories. He hoped you might find peace.”

She nodded. “He has been concerned about me for some time. I have tried to hide my sorrow from him, but I have not been successful. But be assured, Eomer, I am not so fragile as he would have you believe. I am coping with the loss of people I cared about and the ravage to our lands. I am regaining my strength and hope, though perhaps not so quickly or outwardly as he would wish. All things considered, I look around and see that many others have suffered far more than I have, and I have no room for self pity. My life will go on, and I will move forward and be happy, and make something worthwhile of my existence.”

Eomer smiled at her. “And Rohan is honored to help in any way that we can. Perhaps in helping you to heal, we will find some healing of our own.”

His smile trailed off as he became lost in his thoughts, and Lothiriel realized he did understand her situation. He, himself, was one of those who had suffered far more than she and, yet, he was called upon to put aside his own cares and meet the needs of his people first. Maybe her father was right; perhaps she could do some good during her time here and help him face this challenge. Perhaps he would find some healing as well if she were able to ease his burden even slightly.

They remained silent as the sun finally dropped behind the distant mountain, leaving them mostly in darkness. Lothiriel shivered slightly in the night air and stood. As Eomer rose also, she turned to him and declared, “There is one thing Rohan can do for me, Eomer.” 

His eyebrows rose questioningly and she added, “Teach me to ride a horse. In Dol Amroth, I swim in the sea, because that is what we do there. While I am in Rohan, I will learn to ride a horse, because that is what you do here.”

He gave a laugh. “Then we shall see it done. But be warned – there is nary a side-saddle to be found in all of Rohan. If you learn to ride, you will learn to ride properly!”

“I would have it no other way,” she declared, laughing.

_to be continued_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The next day, Eothain stood waiting patiently to be summoned into Eomer’s study. He had been sent for just after breakfast, and was curious what Eomer might have in store for him. Even so, when he was finally shown in and seated across from the man with whom he had been lifelong friends, he was not in the least prepared for the request made of him.

“Eothain, I...need a favor.” Eomer paused, thinking for a moment, and Eothain waited for him to continue.

“You have met Lothiriel of Dol Amroth, the Prince’s daughter?” At Eothain’s nod, he added, “She is to be our guest for the next few months, at least until Eowyn’s wedding and possibly longer. I need someone to be her escort and guide during that time. I am certain I will not have adequate time to do it properly, and Eowyn will likely fill most of her days, but I would like for her to have someone she can call upon whenever she wishes. And she wants to learn to ride a horse.”

Eothain stared at the king, rather dumbfounded, and haltingly said, “Let me get this straight – you would like me, a roughshod soldier, to be the escort of a Gondorian Princess? Are you mad?”

Eomer laughed softly. “No, but I can trust you. The lady is not unattractive and I can be certain your manners will be impeccable when you are with her. I know it is not the sort of duty you might wish, but I need someone I can rely on completely and not have to worry about her. She is a pleasant girl, and I think you might actually find you enjoy this task.”

Eothain shook his head in disbelief, but shrugged. “If that is what my king desires of me, then that is what I will do.” A flare of mischief lit his eyes and he inquired, “Am I to assume that, regardless of the temptation, I am not to corner her in the stables and taste her lips?” 

He held an expressionless face, but Eomer was not fooled and burst out laughing. “If you dare risk open war with Dol Amroth and her three irate brothers, by all means venture inappropriate behavior with her! Though perhaps I should warn you – Eowyn has already discovered her inability to defend herself and has started teaching her to use a blade.”

Eothain grinned. “Understood, my lord. I will restrain my manly desires with the lady!”

“Join us for the midday meal and I will formally introduce you and tell her what I have arranged. You can let her know how to find you when she desires your presence. And thank you, my friend. I greatly appreciate this.”

Lothiriel seemed amused when he presented his idea, and Eothain, over the meal, but she withheld any comment and just smiled. “I welcome Eothain’s company, my lord. Thank you.”

As Eowyn was occupied that afternoon, Eothain offered to show Lothiriel about the town more fully. She had seen some of it already during her time here, but that had mostly been wandering with her brothers. Eothain would have more knowledge of the place and know where to find things of possible interest to her.

They strolled down the main thoroughfare from Meduseld on the bright, sunny day. After a few moments of silence, Lothiriel said, “So, Eothain, tell me what terrible crime you have commited to be so punished by having to play nursemaid to a spoiled noblewoman of Gondor.” 

Her eyes twinkled in amusement as she looked inquiringly at him, and for a moment he was unsure how to respond to her directness. Something about her felt honest and real, though, and he risked embarrassment by telling her the truth. “I am not being punished, Lady Lothiriel. I am merely the one man the king most trusts to behave himself and not act in an unseemly fashion with a fair noblewoman!” He gave a mocking half-bow, and then looked up for her reaction.

With a laugh, she told him, “How disappointing! But since the king did indicate he wishes me to enjoy my stay in Edoras, perhaps you would be willing to introduce me to those fine men who have not your scruple in such matters? Or must I corrupt you if I _wish_ to have a man behave in an ‘unseemly’ manner with me?”

Eothain almost choked trying to hold back a snort of laughter. “My lady!”

“My name is Lothiriel, Eothain. I will not spend my entire visit here with you fawning deferentially over me!”

“My apologies – Lothiriel. And as long as you promise not to tell the king, I will introduce you to anyone you wish!”

With the ice broken, they lapsed into amiable conversation for the remainder of their stroll. 

xxxxx

It had been three days since her family departed for home. During the day, Lothiriel was able to keep her smiling facade in place, but nighttime always found her with an aching loneliness for her loved ones. It was not that she did not like Rohan, or the royal family or Eothain, but her homesickness overwhelmed her reason, particularly when she was tired. Too often her fretfulness kept her awake at night. Finally, she determined to tackle the matter head on.

Lothiriel moved silently down the dark hallway to the kitchen. Her candle made only a scarce penetration of the blackness around her, but it was enough to find her way. A nice mug of hot tea ought to settle her so she could sleep. She did not intend to spend her entire time in Rohan weeping behind closed doors and dragging exhaustedly through her days. As Faramir had pointed out, this should be an adventure and she would make it so.

When she reached the kitchen, however, she unexpectedly saw a light already shining there, and discovered Eomer sitting beside a lantern and mug at a worktable. For a moment, she hesitated, not wanting to disturb him, but apparently he had heard her footsteps, soft though they were. He cast a weary eye at her and straightened. “Lady Lothiriel. What keeps you up this night?”

He started to rise, but she stayed him with a gesture and came to sit across from him. “I was too restless for slumber, so I thought some tea would help.”

He rose and moved over to the fire, pouring her a mugful and bringing it to her. “You are in luck. I just fixed some for myself.”

As he reseated himself, she eyed him curiously. “And why are you still up? You look quite weary.”

He nodded, carelessly running his fingers back over his head, shoving his hair away from his face, as he hunched over his mug. “I am, but there is too much that troubles my mind to let it rest.”

“Perhaps a fresh perspective would be useful. I often sat at my father’s side during council meetings, and am well acquainted with his methods of dealing with various situations,” she offered, sipping carefully at the hot tea.

He was reluctant to burden her, but possibly she was right. Maybe she would have some ideas that would help him resolve some of the problems Rohan was facing.

With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair and told her, “I do not know how much you know about the war in Rohan, but Saruman not only sought to kill our people, but waste the land so it was useless to us. Much of it has been burned over and will take years to regenerate enough to support crops. Livestock was killed. Homes were destroyed. Forests were pulled down and water polluted. Here in Edoras we do not suffer so much, for Saruman’s forces never got that close to us, but the outlying villages are in dire straits. Not only that, so many of our men were killed that there are few left to hunt for food, rebuild homes, put their lives back together. Women and children have been left alone to fend for themselves. And they are not even entirely safe. Bands of orcs still roam about, attacking whenever the opportunity presents itself, and robbers are starting to take advantage of the situation.”

Eomer lapsed into a morose silence. His voiced concerns seemed even more insurmountable than they had as mere thoughts.

After a moment of contemplation, Lothiriel commented, “So Rohan’s strength lies in Edoras.”

The king looked up, somewhat surprised by her remark, but nodded at its essential truth. “Yes. I suppose that is accurate. We suffered least here, we are most protected, we have more ready access to food, water and shelter.”

Again, Lothiriel considered his words, then asked, “Is Edoras full? Are there empty houses, rooms, stables?”

Eomer shook his head. “Many buildings are empty. Some are still occupied, but part of the family is dead. Many soldiers and horses did not return. Their spots are vacant.”

“Then I would recommend bringing the people in from the villages as much as possible, and finding them a place here for the time being. Perhaps those who have room in their homes will take them in. When there is no more room to bring them here, bring them to the villages as close to Edoras as possible that still remain useable, and focus your rebuilding on those villages and towns. Concentrating your people into a smaller area will make it easier to provide for their needs during the coming winter. With them scattered all over, if you have bad weather, it will be difficult to get to them.”

For the first time in at least a week, Eomer felt a spark of hope. “Yes,” he murmured. “That would help a great deal. And it would make it easier to protect them as well. The orcs are less likely to strike close to Edoras where so much of the army is located.”

Looking up, he gave her a grin. “My thanks. Your father suggested I seek your counsel. I see I should have paid more attention to his admonition.”

She smiled in return and drained the last of her tea. “I am pleased to help in any way that I am able. Do not hesitate to make use of me. And, now, I think I will attempt once more to get some sleep before the night is gone.”

She stood, and Eomer did likewise. “Perhaps I will be able to rest also, now that you have eased my mind a little. I will walk you back.”

xxxxx

Since Eomer was now seeking Lothiriel’s counsel as well as Eowyn’s, they fell into the habit of discussing matters over dinner. This enabled them to share ideas, and work out any obstacles to them, before Eomer carried them into the council meetings and presented them for implementation.

They had begun determining how much space was available in the city for people and animals, and then systematically began bringing the most far-flung villagers to Edoras. Some were reluctant to leave their homes, even though many were little more than burned-out shells, but finally gave in when assured this was only a temporary solution until homes could be rebuilt and crops resown.

Edoras had not seen so many people since Theoden’s funeral, when the large number of guests had attended the ceremony. There were some squabbles and difficulties but, in all, the whole influx went much more smoothly than Eomer had dared hope. It was a slow process to bring in each village and then start on the next, all the while stockpiling what could be salvaged from the villages in the way of wood for fuel or building, and any food that was left untouched.

Several livestock corrals and shelters were built just outside the city walls to house the animals that were brought, and gradually the housing of refugees fell into a familiar pattern.

Lothiriel found her days too often idle, which was not to her taste, so she sought Eomer’s permission to work on the royal garden behind Meduseld. It had fallen into disarray, and was overgrown with weeds and unkempt plants. Gardening had not been foremost in mind during the time Wormtongue and Saruman had held Theoden under their sway, and it was a low priority for Eomer to focus his attention. He was rather pleased, though, that the garden would be cared for once more. He remembered it during his growing up years and thought it sad to see its present decline.

And, as a week became a fortnight, Lothiriel realized she had begun to settle into life at Edoras. True, it was far different than her experience at home, but in many ways she preferred the more relaxed atmosphere that prevailed here. Even though Eothain often accompanied her when she ventured into town, she did not sense a need for his protection. In recent years, she had not dared move far from the castle in Dol Amroth without her guard attending her.

xxxxx

Though Eowyn was kept busy, helping her brother learn his role as king and preparing for her wedding, she was making good progress on her studies about Gondorian culture and society. Lothiriel found she had a quick mind and, as a member of Rohan’s royal household, was already familiar with many protocols. Still, the stiffer, more formal regulations in Gondor’s society, which Lothiriel had often considered somewhat stifling, were something of a sore point for Eowyn.

“I am not sure I can walk two steps behind a man, bowing and scraping like a servant,” Eowyn said sullenly. “Especially if he is my husband.”

Lothiriel thought for a moment, then asked, “Did you walk in front of King Theoden?”

Eowyn looked startled. “Of course not! He was the king; it would not be proper to set myself above him!”

“Yet you did not consider that servile, even though he was your uncle. This is the same thing. You are not showing deference to Faramir because he is a man or because he is your husband. You are showing honor and respect for his office as the Steward of Gondor. Walking a little behind him, and curbing your tongue in public are just a part of that. Faramir neither expects nor wants you to behave so with him in private. Indeed, his injunction to me was to teach you Gondorian protocol, but not to lose Eowyn in the process.”

Eowyn considered this and nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I see your point. But what if I have a valid suggestion to offer to ‘the Steward’?”

“Just as with your uncle, you politely ask permission to speak, which he will no doubt grant you if he can, and then you leave it in his hands. He may accept and use your suggestion, or he may reject it. Likely he will not be able to discuss his reasoning with you at the time, but I am certain he will be happy to explain in private if he has reason to reject it and you wish to know why.”

Eowyn sighed. “I could live with that, I suppose. It just seems odd to treat my husband so, but perhaps if I keep reminding myself to compare him to Uncle in these matters, I will more readily understand how to act.”

Lothiriel smiled at her. “And do keep in mind what I said. Faramir does not wish to turn you into a placid, servile wife who hangs on his every word and has an empty head. He loves you as you are, and he is eager to keep your fire and spirit burning brightly. He would be very disappointed if you never challenged him on anything. Indeed, I have never known him to give a second glance to such a tame woman. It seems to be one of the things that attracted him to you!”

Eowyn put her arms around Lothiriel and hugged her tightly. “I am so grateful to have you here to guide me! You know the protocol of Gondor, but you also know Faramir. You will show me the happy medium that I will find tolerable and that Gondor will find acceptable.”

That proved to be their biggest hurdle and from then on they had few difficulties. However, one day as they sat sewing on Eowyn’s wedding garments, the White Lady brought up a new subject for discussion.

Laying her sewing down in her lap, she watched Lothiriel a moment, and then asked, “Lothiriel, do you know how to cook?”

“Cook? Yes. Why?” Lothiriel responded, not looking up.

“It is just...I was never very interested in learning that sort of thing. People pretend to like what I fix, but I have caught glimpses of their faces and I do not think they have been honest with me. And it is for certain I have never found my food desirable to eat.”

Lothiriel looked up at her and smiled. “It is no matter. As Faramir’s wife, you will have servants to prepare the meals, so you will not have to do so. I chose to learn simply because a dear friend of mine enjoyed it. Do not let it trouble you.”

Before she could return to her work, Eowyn blurted out, “But I would wish to do so!”

Lothiriel gazed calmly at her, awaiting an explanation that was soon forthcoming. “I...surely there will be times when Faramir and I wish to be alone, and it would please me to be able to fix my husband a meal that he did not have to choke down.” Eowyn bowed her head in embarrassment. “I want him to be proud of me.”

Thinking a moment, Lothiriel finally answered, “Cooking a meal for him will not make Faramir proud of you, Eowyn.” Her friend’s head came up in surprise at these words, and Lothiriel continued, “Faramir cares not about such things. He loves you, just as you are. If you wield a sword well enough to kill orcs, but cannot cook, he is proud of you. If you know court protocols, but cannot sew, he is proud of you. If you speak fluent Rohirric, but know nothing of Elvish, he is proud of you. He has spent his whole life trying to win the approval of a father who rarely acknowledged his worth. He would not dream of focusing on any of your shortcomings and overlooking your strengths. And your strengths, whatever they may be, will be enough in his eyes. In that, you are marrying the best man that ever was.”

Tears filled Eowyn’s eyes, as she smiled tenderly listening to Lothiriel’s words. Wiping at them with the back of her hand, she cleared her throat, but said, “Even so, I should like to be able to cook for my husband, as a token of my love. Will you teach me?”

“Of course! Not only that, I happen to know some of his favorite foods. You can surprise him some time with a meal of all his particular likes!” The two shared a conspiratorial laugh and returned to their sewing.

_to be continued_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Ah, yes, that old fanon that says Eowyn can't cook. Maybe she can and maybe she can't, but it does make a fun story device!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This is a short chapter, so I'll post another one tomorrow._

**Chapter 3**

The next morning, Eothain put in appearance just as they were finishing the morning meal. Taking a seat, he refused the food offered and smiled at Lothiriel. “So, are you prepared to learn to ride today?”

She nodded. “Yes, and Eowyn found an old riding outfit of hers that we could adjust to fit me. She said it would be easier in that than in a dress.”

“True.” He glanced at her hair, then commented, “You may wish to tie your hair back out of the way. Or braid it.”

“I will return as quickly as I can,” she told him.

“Then I will wait here until you are ready,” he smiled.

At his words, she rose and excused herself to change her clothes and fix her hair. She put in appearance a short time later, causing an upraised eyebrow by Eothain. “Are you always so quick when dressing?” he asked in astonishment. “My sister would have taken more than half an hour to return from such a simple task!”

She laughed and shrugged her shoulders. “I have three brothers and a widowed father. They were not very patient about waiting for ladies to leisurely array themselves. I learned to be quick about it, or suffer their disgruntled grumblings!”

He rose and offered his arm to her. “Then let us away. There is work to be done this day!”

Smiling, she slipped her hand through the crook of his arm and they wandered off talking, calling a goodbye to Eowyn and Gamling, who still remained at the table discussing some household details.

Eothain led the way to the royal stables, and then paused indecisively in the door. He rubbed his chin as he considered his choices.

“What is the matter?” Lothiriel inquired.

“Hmmm? Oh, well…I am uncertain how you wish to learn about horses.” 

When he paused, she prompted, “What do you mean? Speak plainly and I will give you your answer.”

He hesitantly nodded. “The Eorlingas take great pride in their mounts and generally prefer to be the one who provides their care. Even the King cares for his horse, Firefoot, most of the time. He cannot always do so now, but he does whenever possible. I suppose since the horse you will be riding will not be yours, you will not need to learn to care for him. And many noble ladies choose to leave the horse care to the stablehands.”

She gazed off down the stable aisle a moment, then asked, “What does Eowyn do?”

“Eowyn does as her brother does. She cares for her own horse, if she possibly can.”

“Then teach me to do things as Eowyn would do them. Even if I do not own this horse, once I learn to ride, I may wish to get my own mount and then I will know what to do,” she told him.

He gave her an approving grin. “Eomer said you wished to learn to ride properly! Apparently you mean to learn about horses properly also. Excellent!”

An hour later, Lothiriel almost regretted her decision. She had curried the horse and cleaned smelly messes out of the stall, carried water, some of which actually stayed in the bucket long enough to get to the horse, and learned about bedding, feed and grooming utensils. And still she seemed no closer to riding a horse than she had been when she left Dol Amroth. She’d had no idea there was so very much involved in horse care.

Eothain had gone to speak with the stable master, so Lothiriel plunked down on a small bench and poked at a blister that was forming on the palm of her hand. She wished she had thought to wear gloves for this endeavor, particularly considering how dirty her hands now were. It would take considerable scrubbing to get the dirt out from under the nails.

Eothain reappeared, a saddle over his arm, but came to a stop as he noticed the blister she was examining. Setting the saddle down, he took her hand to get a closer look and gave her an apologetic smile. “Forgive me. I did not think about your hands being unused to such work. I should have thought to make certain you wore gloves. Perhaps we should stop for today so you can have this treated.”

She shook her head and stiffly rose. “No. It is not that serious. What is next?”

Eothain considered her a moment. While he was impressed by her willingness to work hard, there was no reason to overdo it on her first day. He had given her more physical work than she was likely used to doing, and he could see the tiredness in her face, and recognize the stiffness of her movement that indicated sore muscles.

He reached for her hand. “That is all the work we will do today. For now, let us just get you acquainted with your horse and we will actually start you riding another day. I do not want you in such pain tomorrow that you will give up on this quest, or even refuse to leave your bed!”

Despite her disappointment, she could not restrain a rueful, grateful smile. “Very well. As you think best.”

They spent the next half hour petting, talking to and feeding Eothain’s ready stash of apples to the horse he had selected. The gelding was older and far more docile than most of the Rohirric horses. He had been named Bugan, which Eothain told her meant ‘yielding’, and seemed to be his nature. His main purpose in the royal stables was for visitors to ride if they were not accomplished riders and had no mount of their own.

xxxxx

Even before she went to bed that night, Lothiriel began to understand Eothain’s remark about her refusing to leave her bed the next day. She was already so stiff and sore she could barely move. A knock came at her door as she was preparing to get into her nightclothes, and before she could respond, Eowyn’s head poked in, grinning knowingly at her. “May I come in?”

“Of course. Particularly since you are practically in already!” Lothiriel laughed.

Eowyn entered and closed the door, holding up a small pot with a lid. “Help has arrived,” she announced, while Lothiriel gave her a puzzled look. “Uncover your back and shoulders,” Eowyn directed, and Lothiriel did, with a hint of embarrassment.

Seating her on a bench, Eowyn began massaging a fragrant salve into her sore muscles. At first, the pressure of her hands, kneading the muscles wasn’t exactly pleasant, but then the salve began to have a soothing effect and she was more appreciative of the treatment.

“When Eothain told us at supper what all he had put you through today, I knew you would be suffering by now,” Eowyn explained. “I had the healers make this up for you, and they just brought it.”

“I am most grateful. I fear Dol Amroth nobility are not used to such labors! But it is my own fault. I should have made Eothain aware of how ‘delicate’ I am before he got very far. Likely he expected my life to be similar to yours.”

“You can get into your nightclothes now,” Eowyn told her, covering the salve and setting it on the dresser. “I will be right back.”

Lothiriel watched her leave, curious as to her further purpose, but did as directed and dressed for bed. Eowyn returned with water, bandages and a seemingly different salve. This she used on the blisters on Lothiriel’s hands, and then bound them up. “This works very well. They should be almost healed by morning, but do be sure to wear gloves whenever you work in the stable, and probably while riding also. I think I have an old pair that will fit you comfortably. I will bring them in the morning.”

“Thank you,” Lothiriel told her, rather sheepishly. “I feel rather silly not knowing such things, but....”

Eowyn grinned at her. “I am sure there is much about the sea that I do not know, and I would make mistakes there. Do not fear, we will teach you to be a proper Eorling!”

They chuckled together and then said their goodnights, and Lothiriel laid down feeling much better than she had an hour earlier.

Even so, she was stiff and sore again the next day, though it did not seem as bad as it had the previous night. Eowyn put in appearance as she was washing, and massaged more salve into her muscles, which made movement much easier. She had also brought the promised gloves, which proved a little big on Lothiriel, but quite workable. They chatted while Lothiriel dressed and then made their way to eat.

Eothain was waiting, talking to Eomer and he cast an anxious eye at Lothiriel when they put in appearance. He seemed relieved that she was up, and apparently not too crippled by his thoughtlessness.

After greeting the both of them, he apologetically asked, “How do you fare this morning, Lothiriel?”

She smiled reassuringly at him. “Do not be concerned, Eothain. I am well. Eowyn put a salve on my sore muscles and bound my blisters, so I am ready to get back to it!”

Still looking a bit dismayed, despite her assurances, he told her admiringly, “Well, I certainly must credit Gondor with courage, my lady!”

She laughed and slapped his arm. “Do not mock me, soldier! I could never face my father if I let Rohan break me!”

Eomer watched the exchange with a surprised expression. Apparently they were getting along far better than he had anticipated, though he was not completely caught off guard by it considering his own dealings with Lothiriel. She could be totally disarming. But Eothain was not usually one to be drawn in by noblewomen, and Eomer had never known him to be so easy with any of them.

By the time she had eaten and they made their way to the stable, the sky was clouding over with ominous grey clouds. Before Bugan had been curried and his stall cleaned, the clouds opened up with a steady rain that cancelled their riding plans. The rain continued for the next three days, so Lothiriel and Eowyn took that opportunity to begin the cooking lessons. As it turned out, Eowyn could be quite efficient in the kitchen, now that she had an interest. The biggest part of her difficulties before this seemed to tie more to her lack of inclination for doing something she considered so dull. With the idea of pleasing Faramir firmly fixed in her mind, she attacked the challenge with enthusiasm and dedication that soon gave the desired results. 

Without telling Eomer, Eowyn prepared the entire midday meal, to which she invited Gamling and Eothain to join them. The servants brought in the prepared food as usual, so there was nothing to suggest anything out of the ordinary. By the end of the meal, the men were commenting on the tasty stew, and how cook must have gotten a new recipe. The bread was completely devoured, evidence in itself of how it was received, and Eowyn sat grinning with pleasure at the lot of them polishing off even the last dregs of gravy from their bowls.

Eomer looked up in time to notice a look passing between Eowyn and Lothiriel. Suspiciously, he asked, “What are the two of you up to this day? I saw that look.”

Lothiriel laughed with amusement and, at an imperceptible nod from Eowyn, told him, “I am afraid, gentlemen, you had best not get used to such fare for your meals. It was not your cook who prepared it, and the one who did will not be with you much longer.”

The three men cast puzzled looks at one another, but then Eothain looked more closely at Lothiriel. He had come to know her rather well these past weeks and suddenly he gleaned an understanding of their riddle. Turning his eyes to the White Lady, “ _You_ did this, Eowyn?”

The other two men looked at him, rather dumbfounded at such a ridiculous notion, but then turned to observe Eowyn. She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. “Yes, I did this. Sadly, none of you were ever able to inspire such effort in me, so Faramir will have to be the recipient of my new talents!”

Eomer stared at her for an instant and then teasingly glared at Lothiriel. “What have you done to my sister!”

With a laugh, she told him, “Nothing that she did not want done, my lord! And, in truth, it is not truly my fault. Faramir is to blame for this. I only helped bring it about.” 

The five of them chuckled at the bantering, but Eomer fixed Eowyn with a solemn gaze. “It pleases me to see you so content, Eowyn, and this was excellent. I hope Faramir knows how lucky he is to have you.”

Surprisingly, Eowyn blushed faintly and nodded, too choked up by his sentiment to answer. Sensing her discomfort, Gamling rose, saying, “As difficult as it will be, after this fine meal, my lord, I fear we must return to work.”

Eothain stood also, and grinned at Lothiriel. “Well, if you cannot be riding, at least you appear to be employing your time well while you wait for the skies to clear!” To Eowyn he added, “Thank you, my lady, for including me in this wonderful treat!”

As the men exited the room, Lothiriel looked at Eowyn triumphantly and asked, “Satisfied? Faramir cannot help but be delighted.”

“I am very satisfied, and I do thank you again for your time and patience with me. Now, I suppose we ought to get back to our sewing if we want to have everything finished in time.”

_to be continued_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_Today's History Lesson: The sidesaddle has been around since at least 1300. In the earliest form, usually the woman rode sitting facing the side and had little control of her mount, having to be led. By the 16th century, they had begun sitting facing forward and had more independent control of their horse. Some may have begun doing this as early as 1495. So it is quite possible it was fashionable to ride this way in Gondor, as it was considered more 'ladylike'. Strong or powerful women often broke with this tradition (see the Canterbury Tales). If you want more info, Google sidesaddle plus history._ **


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Eventually the skies did clear and Lothiriel’s riding lessons began in earnest. Even though she had not been able to ride, she had continued to go to the stables for instruction there, and Eothain was quite pleased with her progress. The salve had indeed healed the blisters quickly, and using the gloves prevented more from forming. The sore muscles simply had to become used to the exertion and gradually did, but Eowyn continued the massages with salve until Lothiriel felt she could manage without it.

At long last, Lothiriel found herself sitting on the back of a horse. Somehow she had never realized just how tall the creatures were, but now the ground seemed very far away. Nervously she sat listening attentively to Eothain’s instructions on how to properly hold the reins, how to position and use her legs and hands, and the basics of riding in general.

And then he stepped back and she was on her own. Calmly he walked beside her, guiding, instructing and correcting, as Bugan walked around the paddock. When she seemed to have the feel of the horse, and Eothain could detect her relaxing a bit, they attempted a slow trot. This proved more difficult, and Eothain bit back a smile lest she think he was making fun of her. Lothiriel’s face wore an expression of intense concentration as she struggled to do all he told her, but still she bounced loosely about in the saddle. 

Bugan was used to inexperienced riders, so he gave her no problems and tolerated her thumping against the saddle on every beat. Having mercy on her, Eothain had her slow Bugan to a walk again, and continue working at steering and guiding him with her hands, legs and heels, and then called it a day.

Lothiriel was somewhat disappointed that the lesson was so brief and, suspecting as much, Eothain explained, “If you thought you were sore from the stable work, you will soon discover there are far more muscles in your legs and seat than you think. And every single one of them will be complaining about this.” With a knowing grin, he added, “And Eowyn will not be able to massage away your discomfort this time!”

Eothain’s assessment proved correct, and by supper that evening Lothiriel was walking gingerly and sitting uncomfortably. Both Eomer and Eowyn eyed her with a mixture of amusement and sympathy, but knew there was little they could do to help. Only time would bring about relief.

Despite her inclination to do nothing more than lie on her bed, unmoving, Eowyn had assured Lothiriel it was best to keep moving and use the sore muscles as much as possible. Though it seemed ridiculous, she claimed it would make the soreness ease sooner, and Lothiriel eventually agreed that it seemed to be true.

Consequently, she spent time each day working in the royal garden. She had made good progress on clearing out the weeds and detritus. Now, she was beginning to add plants, as well as thin and prune those that were overgrown. She was quite pleased with the improvement she had made during this venture.

xxxxx **(mid to late Sept)**

Eomer rubbed his neck as he wandered out into the garden. The morning session with his advisers had been annoying and stressful, and his head was pounding. Lothiriel’s work in the garden was making it a restful place once more, and he was beginning to think of it as his refuge.

As he rounded a tall shrub, he came face to face with Lothiriel, her hands dirty and a small plant in each of them.

“You took me seriously when I said I did not mind if you worked in my garden,” he commented.

She smiled at him. “Of course! I did not offer lightly, and autumn is upon us. I need to get some things in the ground quickly so they will be established enough to withstand the winter.”

Noticing his expression and the way he was rubbing his neck and shoulders, she asked, “Is something troubling you? Advisers can be wearying....”

He laughed, not surprised she had surmised the cause of his affliction. “Exactly! I have just spent a most unpleasant morning getting their considered opinion on a subject. I do not think they heard a word I said.”

She set down the plants she held, and cleaned her hands on the apron she wore over her dress. “Sit down and tell me about it. The pain in your neck and shoulders I may be able to help; the pain of your advisers is less easily dealt with.”

He chuckled as he moved to a nearby bench. To his surprise, she moved to stand behind him and pushed his hand away from his neck. Replacing it with her own, she began kneading the muscles in neck, back and shoulders with a very firm grip. He felt reasonably certain she had done this before, and she was very good at it, too. He could feel the tension releasing already as his muscles unknotted.

“So what were your advisers on about that distressed you so?” she urged.

With a sigh, he answered, “They have decided it is time I should think about marrying and starting a family. I have been king less than a year and already they hound me about this! My attention is better focused on feeding our people and rebuilding homes than on such frivolous matters!”

“True! On the other hand, with all the various trips you have had to make to Gondor, which have entailed much socializing with noblewomen, perhaps they think you should seize the opportunity to look around. At least this way you do not have to specifically take time out from other tasks to find some lady to woo with flowers and moonlight,” she observed jestingly.

“I am afraid I am not a flowery romantic,” Eomer admitted ruefully. “Tavern wenches are only concerned that your face does not frighten small children, and you are reasonably gentle.”

Lothiriel grinned teasingly and commented, “Then it is fortunate that your face is pleasing enough not to frighten small children and that you are able to occasionally be reasonably gentle!”

Eomer turned and eyed her guardly. “And why is that fortunate?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear her answer.

“Because no matter what else, at least you know there _is_ a woman somewhere who will have you!” She pushed his head back to facing front and continued her massage.

He blushed and smiled down at his boots. “Perhaps that is so, but kings are expected to marry nobles, not tavern wenches. Such might have me, but the royal court would not likely welcome her in their midst.”

“Oh, I do not know. It would surely enliven things a bit! Such a girl would be refreshing amid all that stuffiness, do you not think?”

He laughed outright. “True! Still, I think more will be demanded of me.” His face grew solemn again. “Including an heir.”

“You do not think you can find a noblewoman who will also have you? I dare say, I can introduce you to any number of women who would gladly marry a king and mother a future sovereign.”

Eomer again looked at her piercingly. “I can find such also, but none that I would wish to....” He broke off, not sure he should even be discussing this with her. She was, after all, the daughter of a prince and a noblewoman herself.

“Not find one who would love Eomer rather than his kingship? Who would make him feel complete and happy? Who, at the end of the day, would make him forget his cares in her loving arms?” she asked softly, with disturbing astuteness, as she came to sit beside him. 

Eomer nodded, not looking up from his hands clasped in his lap. “There are many who would warm my bed, but I know of none who would warm my heart. I would wish for what Eowyn has found – someone who truly loves me, whether I was king or soldier,” he confessed.

She sighed beside him. “A daunting problem, to be sure. It has long been the difficulty royalty faces, of finding love rather than social or political advantage in a companion. Eowyn was very fortunate...as was Faramir.”

Eomer got the impression her comments were not solely about his situation, but included her as well. “I am sorry,” he told her. “It was selfish of me to suggest I alone have this problem.”

She laughed mirthlessly. “I did not take your comments so, I assure you. You merely voiced what many before you have thought or felt, even if they left it unspoken. At least for some of us ‘lesser nobles’, we have the option of never marrying nor bearing children. I have no obligation to my country to produce heirs. That task falls more to my brothers, particularly Elphir. If I do not find a man I can love, or at least live with tolerably well, I can choose not to marry and my father would not force me to do so. You, however, must sire an heir, which means you must find a woman you can tolerate well enough to do that much. But such will not likely bring you happiness, I fear.”

Standing suddenly, she turned to face him and clapped both hands on his shoulders. “I will tell you what – I will keep my eyes open for someone who may suit you and alert you if I find her! With me searching in Gondor and you searching in Rohan, perhaps we will ferret out someone suitable!”

He broke into laughter at her declaration and responded, “It is a deal, then! And should I find a man I think might appeal to you, I will send word immediately.” He paused, then glanced at her with twinkling eye and said, “Speaking of which, Eothain is a good man....”

She chuckled and sat back down, shaking her head in amusement. “I do not deny that, but I fear Eothain is no more drawn to me than I am to him. I greatly enjoy his company, but I cannot honestly say I feel anything for him beyond friendship. And I have seen nothing in his eyes to suggest he feels otherwise. So, my friend, you will have to continue your search on my behalf...and Eothain’s, since you seem bent on matchmaking!”

xxxxx

By the end of September, most of the outlying villages had been emptied and the villagers relocated closer to or in Edoras. Their scavenging of materials had yielded more than they had expected, so Eomer was feeling somewhat more optimistic about the coming winter. Still, he could not shake the worry away completely. His cousin had been trained for rule, not him. Too many days he felt like a blind man in a strange land, floundering about and feeling his way unseeingly into a frightening future.

The help of both Eowyn and Lothiriel had been immeasurable in easing his burden, but realizing that Eowyn would soon be gone from him, and likely Lothiriel would choose to return home at the same time, weighed heavily on his mind. In some ways, he thought he would miss Lothiriel’s counsel even more than Eowyn’s. Eowyn had as little experience with this as her brother, and courtly protocol was of no use in resolving these practical matters of urgency. Lothiriel, on the other hand, had stood at her brother’s side in Dol Amroth before and during the war. They had struggled with feeding, sheltering and protecting their people also, so she had firsthand knowledge of ways to successfully accomplish their purpose.

The more Eomer wrestled with his responsibilities, the more he found his sleep disturbed. For a time, he had been so exhausted at the end of a day that the nightmares from the war had been unable to surface. But, lately, they seemed to have returned, and now he could add weariness to his list of problems to solve.

As he walked in the garden with Lothiriel one evening after supper, enjoying an autumn sunset, she hesitantly broached a new subject with him.

“May I ask you something, Eomer?”

“Of course,” he answered, turning a quizzical eye upon her.

“Please do not misunderstand my question, but...what went on in Rohan that things got so out of hand? I have heard bits and pieces, here and there, but not enough to put it all together with a firm understanding. And I should like to understand.”

Were it anyone else asking this, Eomer knew he would have been offended. But he knew Lothiriel well enough by now to know she meant no offense, that she was not passing any kind of judgement on them or their actions. If she was asking, she truly wished to understand.

With a sigh, he began a shortened version of the circumstances in Rohan for the past few years. Wormtongue and Saruman, his own imprisonment, Theodred’s murder and all the rest. In many ways, it was rather cathartic to relay it all to her, and see more clearly for himself all the threads that had woven together to cause the end result. 

When he finished and lapsed into silence, she did not speak for a time, then murmured, “Eowyn has made reference to Grima Wormtongue, but she has never fully explained who he was. I have long suspected that it entailed more than just his hold over King Theoden.”

Defensively, Eomer replied, “I would have done more to protect her if I could! But there was nothing I could do.” His tone was almost pleading, asking her to believe him.

She laid a calming hand on his arm, as he sat next to her on a bench. “Eomer, I do not blame you for anything, and I know you would never have allowed any harm to come to Eowyn if it had been in your power to prevent it.”

“I should have done more,” he commented bitterly.

“There was nothing more you could have done,” she assured him.

“How can you be so certain of that? You know only what I have told you. I should have....”

“Eomer,” she interrupted, “I know you, and I know how much you care for your sister. You were doing all that you could do, and Eowyn knows that as well as I do. Even so, it does not change what happened. She did what she had to do in her circumstances, just as you did in your circumstances. Regrets will not change anything, or alter the outcome.”

“But I should have seen what Eowyn suffered, and helped her more so she never felt such despair, and the need for an honorable death in battle,” he asserted. “I failed her, when she needed me most.”

“Perhaps, but I am not sure that is so. Eowyn’s difficulties and frustrations ran deep, and likely no one would have fully understood them for she confided in no one. As a man, you could not see the world through her eyes and know what she was feeling, and she did not know how to express it so you could understand. She had to choose her own path, and it is unlikely you could have prevented this.” 

She paused and considered a moment, then added, “Besides, who is to say she was not destined to ride into that battle. Look at the outcome. A legend long ago foretold that no man could slay the Witch King. Had she not been there, what havoc might such evil have wrought upon the forces of Men? Presumably, she did what no man could, and what no other woman would have attempted. Who is to say she was not destined to meet Faramir in the Houses of Healing, so that they both would find love and finally be completely healed of their wounds, inside and out? Both of them feel more loved and valued than at any time previously in their lives. It would have been a very great shame if they had never met.”

Eomer sighed, but he could not deny the truth in her words. Maybe he was being too hard on himself, and certainly regrets would do no good now. They had survived and they would move forward, hopefully finding happiness in the rest of their days.

_to be continued_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 (early Oct)**

Lothiriel paused outside the king’s door, listening for the sounds of disurbance she had heard a moment ago. They came again, and she recognized the jumbled sound of someone dreaming. Reluctantly she lifted the latch on the door and entered the room. A full moon streamed through the window, easily lighting the chamber, and she turned toward the bed where Eomer was thrashing and moaning, calling out periodically. Most of the words were mumbled and incomprehensible, but a few slipped through and it was enough for her to know the dream involved battle...and Eowyn.

She moved to the foot of the bed, safely out of his reach, knowing how dangerous it could be to approach a sleeping soldier. She firmly called his name a few times and, when that got no results, she reached forward and caught his foot, shaking it hard. Abruptly he launched up in the bed, and she hastily released him and sidestepped, still calling his name. She could tell by the confused, rapid blinking he was doing that he was not yet full awake and cognizant of her presence, but at length his face cleared and he noticed her standing before him. 

“Lothiriel?” He rubbed his face with both hands. “Is something the matter? Why are you here?”

She moved slowly around to the side of the bed. “You were dreaming, Eomer, and in distress. I came to wake you.” She sat down, turned to face him, and he was a bit disconcerted by her actions. Some part of his mind kept insisting it was inappropriate for her to be here, but he was too disoriented to fully comprehend the situation.

“I am sorry if I disturbed you. Please, go back to bed. I will be fine now. If you like, tomorrow we can move you to a room farther away so it will not happen again.” The words tumbled out rotely, and he was almost unaware of what he was saying, but she took no notice.

“I did not come to complain of the disturbance, Eomer. I came to help ease your torment.” He turned to look at her curiously in the moonlight, and she continued, “What were you dreaming? I heard you mention Eowyn and it obviously dealt with battle.”

Eomer was not sure he wanted to talk about this, but perhaps it would help him get back to sleep, and it didn’t appear she intended to leave until he did. Slowly, he told her, “It is the same dream all the time. I dream of the Pelennor fields. Of finding Theoden and being named his heir before he died. Of finding Eowyn, seemingly dead. I thought I had lost everything...everyone. I went mad with grief and hopelessness. I went on a rampage of killing, hacking and slashing at every orc and uruk and other enemy I could get my sword into. I felt nothing but anger and despair, and was convinced I was to die. I fought so blindly that I got myself and my men into a situation where we were outnumbered. Imrahil and Gondor’s army came to our aid, but if Aragorn had not arrived to help, I might have caused many needless deaths.” His voice trailed off into silence, as he leaned forward onto his raised knees with tears flowing down his face.

“Lie down,” Lothiriel instructed softly.

He looked at her, cautiously and surprised. “Lie down,” she repeated, “on your side.”

With a sigh, he did as she told him and looked up at her questioningly. Her hand reached over and began to stroke his head, and it struck him that it reminded him strongly of the way his mother used to soothe him when he had a bad dream as a boy. She began humming a low tune, but interspersed with it, she began speaking in a gentle voice. The effect was almost as if she was singing to him, and to his amazement, he felt his muscles starting to unbunch and relax. “Many men, most men, would have despaired in such a situation, and likely done something just as reckless in their anguish. You believed you were to die and you determined to take as many of them with you as possible before that happened. You did not know if it would make a difference to the outcome of the battle, but with your last breath you fought to defend friend and family and home. There is no dishonor in that.”

She fell quiet a few moments, still stroking his head and humming, then directed, “Think of one of your happiest memories, Eomer.”

He was becoming so relaxed, he felt almost on the edge of sleep again, but after a moment he responded, “My happiest memories are when I was a child, before my parents died. Once, at harvest season, many workers had gone to pick the apples from the trees. The children who were old enough either helped, or watched the younger children in the orchard. I was eight and Eowyn was four. I remember we played hide and seek for a while and then, even at that young age, she wanted me to teach her to use a sword.” His mouth curled up at the memory.

“Describe it to me. Was it a warm day or cool? Was the sun shining? Birds singing? What did you hear, smell?” Lothiriel questioned softly.

Sleepily Eomer murmured, “It was a cool day, but the sun was bright. The darkness of Mordor had not yet overshadowed us. I remember the sound of childish laughter, mingling with twittering birds. I remember scolding mothers when a child did something foolish or dangerous. I remember...Eowyn. With her braids and her freckles and her...smile. After our parents died, I did not see that smile very often ever again.”

Drawing him back to the happy memory, Lothiriel asked, “Did you sneak any apples to eat?”

He chuckled, “We snuck so many we did not want to eat the meal our mothers brought for us. And when we were finished, the baskets were loaded into wagons and the children got to ride on the back end, with our legs dangling out. Father came and met us on our way back home, and I got to ride behind him while Eowyn rode in front of him on his horse.” Eomer’s voice had drifted so far into sleep that his words were almost unintelligble now. 

And still Lothiriel hummed and stroked his head, until the deepness of his breathing told her he was finally asleep. Stiffly, she rose and moved slowly to the door, glancing back once before she stepped into the hall, and closed it behind her. She pinched the bridge of her nose with weariness and sorrow. The war might be over and Sauron’s evil defeated, but its effects would linger for a very long time – in the fatherless homes, in the maimed bodies of men, and in the tortured memories of the soldiers who fought. She had sat up nights like this with her brothers, since the fall of Sauron, and always it tore at her heart to see those dear to her so wounded. She knew they were not alone in it. How many other wives and sisters and mothers spent long hours consoling and comforting the men in their lives?

Wearily she returned to her room and fell into a tearful slumber.

xxxxx

When Eomer awoke he had the strangest feeling of disorientation. Last night...he recalled the nightmare, and then he was dreaming about Eowyn...but somehow Lothiriel was in there also. Was it real or dream? As he came more fully awake, he was more convinced that she had actually been in his room last night, comforting him, but he couldn’t quite piece all the details together. He could ask her, he supposed, but what would she think if it _had_ been a dream...or if it had not and he didn’t remember?

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he rose and began dressing. Perhaps she would mention it, if it truly happened, and if she did not, he did not know if he would risk broaching the subject, despite his curiosity.

At the morning meal, Eowyn and Lothiriel chattered away unmindful of his quietness, and missing the glances he threw in Lothiriel’s direction. When they were done eating, Eowyn departed to her daily tasks, so before Gamling could claim him for the day, Eomer asked, “Lothiriel, may I speak with you a moment?”

She nodded agreeably, and he led her to his study. When she was seated, he started to sit as well, but instead began pacing the room as he sought the proper wording for his query.

Almost as if she sensed what distressed him, she asked quietly, “I did not hear you again in the night. Did you sleep better?”

His head whipped around and he eyed her disconcertedly. It was a little unnerving to have her able to read him so easily. Finally, he nodded. “I did. I...I confess I do not remember what exactly happened....”

She gave him a gentle smile. “Then let me fill you in on the particulars. You were having a nightmare, which I could hear. I came to your room and woke you. You explained what the nightmare was about, and then I helped you focus your thoughts on more pleasant memories to enable you to drift back into a more peaceful slumber.”

He sat down behind his desk and stared at his hands, feeling very vulnerable that she had seen him in such weakness. He had not even let Eowyn know about the nightmares as he knew it would worry her. He supposed his fears for his people and anxiety over Eowyn’s leaving had rekindled them, and talking about Rohan’s troubled past with Lothiriel had not helped either.

Softly, Lothiriel reassured him, “Eomer, there is no shame in this. My brothers sometimes suffer the same thing, and I have gone to them in the night to help them through it, as I did you. No one who has seen battle firsthand comes out of it unscathed. Even Eowyn sometimes has nightmares.”

His eyes came up to meet hers, alarmed at this final bit of news. “Eowyn has nightmares?”

She nodded. “Does that surprise you, considering what she faced in battle? It is one of the things that made her recovery so difficult.”

“Does...have you gone to her and helped her through it?”

“Yes. That is how I know of them. She would never have spoken of it to me otherwise, any more than you would have. It is a sorry, hidden legacy of war.”

Eomer pondered her words a few moments, then gazed at her acceptingly. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

“No thanks are necessary, my friend. It is the least I can do for those who fought to protect me and my country.” Rising, she smiled with understanding. “And, now, I suspect Gamling is anxious to get to you and begin your day, and Eothain will be expecting me soon for my riding lesson.”

Lending emphasis to her words, there was a knock at the door, and he escorted her to it, opening to admit Gamling as she departed. He watched her move away down the hall, before turning his attention back to his Doorward and the matters of the kingdom.

xxxxx

Later that afternoon, Gamling brought up the subject of the soon-to-be departure for Minas Tirith, and Eowyn’s wedding. He had sketched out the details of what they needed to take with them, who would be going, what matters needed to be dealt with before they left and so forth. 

Eomer found himself only half listening. Eowyn’s wedding. Imrahil would be there as well, and likely expect his daughter to remain when the Eorlingas returned to their homeland.

He had not discussed Lothiriel’s plans with her, but he supposed he should do so now. There was, of course, the possibility that Imrahil would think her not sufficiently improved, and encourage her to return and stay longer, but Lothiriel had missed her home greatly. He was not sure Imrahil could find enough inducement for her to remain this time.

Once Gamling had left him, he stared out the window for a while, considering things. With a sigh, he rose. He might as well get this over with. If she was leaving for good, it was better to begin planning for that eventuality.

He found Lothiriel where he had expected – in the garden. He glanced around at the work she had done during her time in Rohan and was impressed. The garden had languished over the years, never really tended after the death of Elfhild. There had been a royal gardener once, but war and unrest had overshadowed much interest in such matters for many years.

“Will you spare a moment to talk?” he asked, coming to a stop next to her.

Looking up from where she was working the soil, she nodded and began brushing the dirt from her hands. He offered his hand and she took it to rise, following him to a nearby bench.

He studied the sky a few moments, disinclined to begin the conversation, but knowing it was necessary. Abruptly, he asked, “We leave for Minas Tirith in a week. Have you decided what you will do then? Would you return to Dol Amroth or would you stay in Rohan longer?”

She had been reluctant to remain here when her family left in August, so he rather suspected his question was pointless. Obviously, she would be more than ready to see her home and family once more.

To his surprise, she answered his question with one of her own. “What would you have me do?”

He turned to her, startled, and stammered, “What do you mean? It is not my decision to make.”

“No, it is not. But Eowyn will not be returning with you, and there is still so very much that needs doing here. If my assistance would be helpful to you for a while longer, I would be happy to remain through the winter and do what I can. The wedding will afford me an opportunity to spend time with my family before we are separated again.”

Eomer was unprepared for the feeling of pleasure that washed through him at her offer. It had occurred to him how much he would miss Eowyn, both as his sister and for the help she gave him in taking on the kingship and rebuilding their country. During her time here, Lothiriel had gone out of her way to make herself useful to him. Imrahil had not exaggerated her knowledge and understanding of political matters, and he had found her counsel to be invaluable.

Moreover, she was much like Eowyn in that he found it easy to talk with her about any manner of things, even deeply personal ones. Things he would share with his sister were not always things he felt comfortable sharing with his male friends. Lothiriel’s presence would certainly ease his pangs over missing Eowyn. Yes, perhaps, since she was willing, it would be advisable to have her remain longer in Rohan. Certainly there was still much that needed doing....

Trying not to appear too eager, he told her, “I would welcome you remaining in Rohan and helping to ease the transition. By spring, I think we would be better situated so that I could manage on my own. If you truly do not mind staying, that is.”

She smiled at him. “I do not mind, Eomer, or I would not have offered.” She paused, then looked closely at him, “And what of the winter? Will Rohan be ready? I know many crops were destroyed and land despoiled. Not to mention all the men that were lost who farmed that land.”

Eomer sighed heavily. This had weighed on his mind for many months. He wanted to believe Rohan would be fine, but he was not at all certain their stores would see them through, and if it was a hard winter, many would suffer...and some might die. “I do not know. I keep going over the numbers I am given and trying to find a way to make it all work, but....”

“Eomer, you have listened to my counsel before. I hope what I say now will be useful to you also. First, your soldiers are not so needed for protection as they once were. Let those on patrols set a few guards and the remainder assist the villagers in planting for the spring, where the land will tolerate it. Even if they do not know how, likely the wives of the dead farmers know as much as their husbands did about it.” Eomer nodded, realizing that would be helpful for the future.

She continued, “And, secondly, when we go to Minas Tirith, ask aid of Gondor.” He stiffened beside her and she laid a hand on his arm, “This is not begging, Eomer. Had Rohan not come to our aid, Gondor would have fallen. Rohan has the right to ask of us anything that she wishes in gratitude for your services. The storehouses of Minas Tirith are hidden deep in the mountain and were largely unscathed in the war. Additionally, many people died in the city itself, and even with the influx of refugees, they will have a vast surplus of food. It is unconscionable for Gondor to let the people of Rohan starve through the winter while they feast in their fatness. If you wish, I will make the petition to King Elessar on Rohan’s behalf.” Her mouth quirked with amusement as she added, “After all, my father hinted that I was to serve as something of an ambassador to Rohan, whilst trying to convince me to stay here. If that is the case, then it is only right that the ambassador report home her findings and make recommendations for appropriate diplomatic actions to be taken!”

Eomer could not restrain a laugh. “How can I argue with the inestimable judgement of the ambassador from Gondor! We will petition Gondor when we go, and I would be honored to have you represent us in the matter. Your diplomatic skills far exceed mine. Aragorn may be able to refuse me, but I think he would rue the day he ever took you on!”

They laughed together a few moments, and then Eomer told her sincerely, “Thank you. For everything. I had no idea when I agreed to your father’s proposal of your visiting with us, how fortunate it would prove for Rohan. Had I known, I would have suggested it myself. Thank you.” Impulsively, he leaned and kissed her cheek, and was amused when she blushed.

Rising, he offered his arm. “Shall we go in to supper?”

_to be continued_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The next two weeks were a flurry of activity. Lothiriel had to hastily put the finishing touches on the garden and then leave it be. There were too many last minute tasks that required attention for her to indulge that pleasure. Still, she was not disappointed with the results of her labor. The garden was much more appealing than it had been upon her arrival. 

She also had to forego taking care of Bugan. Even her riding lessons had temporarily ended, though Eothain assured her he would continue to work with her on the journey to Minas Tirith. She tried to spend at least a little time riding each day, even without the lessons, as she hoped to spend most of the trip on horseback, rather than in a carriage. Eomer, Eowyn and Eothain would all be riding and she did not want to be shut away from them the entire time, unable to do anything more than stare at the passing landscape. She had discovered the freedom riding horses afforded and, even once she returned to Dol Amroth, she intended to pursue it. Perhaps before she left Edoras for good, next spring, she would have Eothain help her buy a horse of her own.

Last minute sewing on Eowyn’s wedding clothes was also a priority. Though they had sewed the garments for the actual wedding together, secretly Lothiriel had prepared a nightgown for the wedding night, embroidering it with running horses and simbelmyne. Since most of the packing was to take place two days before their departure, she presented it to Eowyn the night before. As she had hoped, her friend was overwhelmed with gratitude at the gesture, and they wept happy tears in one another’s arms.

With a great deal of embarrassment, Eowyn confessed that she had no one to talk to about the wedding night, and she was more than a little fearful of going into it completely unprepared. Teasingly, Lothiriel told her, “Well, keep your sword handy and if Faramir is not utterly patient and gentle with you, you have my permission to run him through!” When they overcame their fit of giggles, she added more seriously, “I cannot imagine my cousin being anything other than a paragon of patience if he knows of your trepidation, and it is unlikely he will not sense it no matter how hard you try to hide it. Even so, Elphir’s wife will be coming to the wedding and I am sure she will be happy to talk with you about it. Or I know some other ladies in Minas Tirith we might ask if that does not work for some reason. Do not worry. I will see that you are prepared in advance.”

Eowyn rewarded her with another grateful hug. “You are as dear to me as a sister, Lothiriel. Thank you for all your help. Perhaps some day I can in part return the favor when you wed.”

And so the company departed. The autumn thus far had enjoyed quite pleasant weather, and all hoped it would make for easy and uneventful travel.

True to his word, Eothain stayed close to Lothiriel, correcting hands, feet and legs, putting her through various gaits and transitions from one to another. Eomer watched with a critical eye, and was forced to admit that Eothain had done a good job with her. She seemed to be fairly natural at it, and sat a horse well. 

Still, at the end of the day, he could tell the much longer session of riding was taking a toll on her. After the second day, Eomer pulled his sister aside and suggested, “Lothiriel will never give up her mount and ride in a carriage alone, but she is unused to this. Why do you not spend time in the carriage with her to give her some respite? She is going to be in agony if she continues this.” 

Eowyn gladly consented, and though Lothiriel balked, Eowyn was able to convince her of the wisdom of this course. With the wedding drawing ever nearer with each league they covered, sitting idly in a carriage was a bit more inactivity than Eowyn could tolerate, so she and Lothiriel focused their attention on the tunic Eowyn was working on for Faramir. Most of the embroidery work was done, but things had been so busy, Eowyn was concerned it would not be finished before the wedding as she hoped. Thus this carriage ride served a dual purpose that made it more agreeable to both the ladies.

Two days out from Minas Tirith, while the ladies were in the carriage, Eothain rode up alongside Eomer. His friend grinned acknowledgement of his presence and then they rode in companionable silence for a time. At length, Eothain ventured, “So, what of the Lady Lothiriel? Is she staying behind when we return home?”

Eomer had rather expected Lothiriel would have told him already of her plans to stay longer, but since she hadn’t he did so. “She has agreed to stay through the winter, and help us in Eowyn’s absence. It will give us more time to recover, and she has proven very helpful with her suggestions.”

Eothain stared at him a few moments and then nodded. “Good. It will be more difficult once winter sets in, but until then I can continue her riding lessons.”

Eomer had noticed the look his friend had given him, though he was unsure of the meaning behind it. Before he could ask, he was distracted by a messenger arriving, and the matter was forgotten.

xxxxx

Their arrival at Minas Tirith was met with great fanfare. Eothain and his company of Riders camped on the Pelennor, while the wedding party made their way into the city and up to the seventh level. They were greeted by Gondor’s king and queen, along with the eager Steward who could not keep his eyes off his betrothed. Eowyn seemed to be suffering from the same ailment and most of the greetings they bestowed on various people seemed to be done rotely, with little real awareness of what they were saying or to whom they were saying it.

Lothiriel watched the pair with amusement, before turning to greet her family. It was very good to see them all again, and her father had allowed all three brothers to attend as it had been so long since they had seen Lothiriel. There was much hugging and kissing of cheeks, particularly by Amrothos, who declared his intent never to let her out of his sight again. She refrained from making her plans known just then. Time enough later to break the bad news to him.

When at last the greetings were taken care of, servants moved to guide the arriving guests to their quarters. Lothiriel had assumed she would be placed in the Steward’s house, with the rest of her family, but instead Queen Arwen had designated a guest room next to Eowyn’s among the Rohirrim rooms. “I thought you and Eowyn might like to be near one another, at least until after the wedding. Then if you wish to move to the Steward’s house, we will arrange it.”

Lothiriel nodded in understanding. “Thank you. I appreciate your consideration of Eowyn. I think she would wish me near lest her nerves overcome her!”

Arwen smiled at the girl, her dark eyes carefully studying Lothiriel. “You seem to fit in quite well with the Eorlingas,” she observed.

Lothiriel laughed, a bit unnerved by the perusal, but agreed, “I have enjoyed my association with them. They are a warm and engaging people. And,” she lowered her voice, “it seems I will be spending more time with them in the near future. Do not mention it to my family as yet, but I have agreed to stay longer in Edoras and assist with the rebuilding of their country.” 

She wasn’t entirely sure what inspired her to confide such a thing to this Elf woman whom she barely knew, but Arwen did not seem surprised or affronted by the intimacy. Instead she just smiled and told her, “Excellent. I am sure your aid will be very much appreciated by the king and his people.”

For the life of her, Lothiriel could not figure out why she had the distinct impression that she and Arwen were having two completely different conversations. Before she could give it much thought, however, Amrothos put in appearance, pouting that she was not staying with them. He flung himself onto her bed, where he sprawled contentedly and spent the next hour catching her up on all the news from home while Lothiriel and the maidservant unpacked her belongings.

Lothiriel took the rest of the afternoon, after the midday meal, to visit with her family members. Though all expressed an eagerness to have her back home with them, for some reason she still refrained from telling them of her plans. Somehow her first day here did not seem the appropriate time.

Elphir and his wife Alcathir had brought their son, Alphros, with them and Lothiriel enjoyed reacquainting herself with her nephew. As she and Alcathir sat on the floor playing a game with him, Lothiriel took the opportunity to make the request on Eowyn’s behalf, and her sister-in-law was happy to speak with the girl.

The wedding party from Rohan had arrived a week in advance of the wedding, so that business could be discussed while Faramir was still available. Elessar wanted to assure him some time away to spend with his new wife, and so Eomer was scheduled to meet with Elessar and a few select others the next morning.

But for tonight, a feast was scheduled for the newcomers, along with the requisite dancing. Lothiriel retired to her room to rest a few hours beforehand, so she would feel up to the dancing. It had been some time since she’d had the chance, and she was looking forward to it.

Alcathir had thoughtfully brought her a few more of her clothes, thinking perhaps she would like to wear something different for a change than the same dresses she had been wearing the past three months. Since she had not planned to stay in Rohan when she attended Theoden’s funeral, her wardrobe was limited for ease of travel. While in Edoras, she’d had a few new things made, simpler dresses that better suited the climate and circumstances there, along with a couple of riding outfits that protected her legs and gave her more freedom of movement than a dress would.

Going through the dresses Alcathir had brought, she found one in a seafoam green color, with a diaphanous overgown that floated on top of a darker green silk shift, and decided to wear that. It had always been one of her favorites, but was rather delicate so she had not risked taking it along on her travels. Green seemed an appropriate color since they were honoring Rohan.

The maidservant provided for her took great delight in working Lothiriel’s dark tresses up into an intricate style, interwoven with flowers and pearls, and she completed her outfit with a pearl choker necklace that had belonged to her mother. She realized, as she checked her appearance in the looking glass, that though she enjoyed the simpler life in Edoras, she rather missed getting dressed up now and then like this. Most feasts in Rohan were not quite so formal and did not demand this degree of elegance.

She finally decided she was ready, and coincidentally a knock came at her door, signaling the arrival of Amrothos, who was to escort her to the feast. When she opened the door, he stood staring at her in silence. “Is something wrong, brother?” she asked, puzzled by his actions.

He shook his head and murmured, “No. I just had forgotten how lovely you are. Do not forget, you did promise to dance with me tonight. I have little doubt there will be many men vying for your attention once they catch a glimpse of you.”

She blushed slightly. Amrothos rarely got so flattering, at least not with her. He was incredibly good at flattering and wooing all manner of ladies with his dark good looks and winning personality. He saved most of his teasing for his little sister.

Catching hold of his arm, she assured him, “I have not forgotten, nor will I. And I fully expect to dance with both Erchirion and Elphir, as well as Father. I have missed all of you very much!”

Chatting comfortably, they made their way to the dining hall, and a servant guided them to their seats. Faramir and Eowyn were already there, completely engrossed in one another. Slapping her cousin’s arm, she loudly whispered, “The two of you could at least _pretend_ as though you know other people exist!” 

Eowyn and Faramir turned to grin at her guiltily, and Faramir leaned to kiss her cheek. “I confess, Lothiriel, I have missed having you around! But I am relieved to see that Rohan survived your visit!” Faramir told her.

Looking past him, Lothiriel instructed Eowyn, “Forget everything I told you about Gondorian protocol and do whatever you like! It will serve him right if you embarrass him in some way!”

The three laughed amiably together as they awaited the arrival of the remainder of the guests. Within a short time, virtually everyone was there, save the king of Rohan. “What could be keeping your brother?” Lothiriel asked her friend.

Eowyn sighed. “He does not really care for such formal affairs. No doubt he is dragging his feet about getting here and will attempt to leave early. Unless he foolishly gets drunk!”

Lothiriel and Faramir laughed, but Lothiriel assured her, “He would not dare. He meets with King Elessar in the morning, and surely he will want his wits about him.”

Eowyn shook her head uncertainly. “One would think, but with Eomer you can never be certain he will not indulge himself and ignore the consequences until they are upon him!”

Even as they spoke, Eomer appeared in the doorway, flanked by two young noblewomen of Gondor. Faramir chuckled and commented, “Ah, so it begins. The handsome, _available_ king of Rohan visits, and the ladies are more than ready to claim him as their own!”

At his words, Lothiriel studied the two women with Eomer. While she could not honestly say she knew what type of woman would interest the king, at first glance she suspected neither of these two would qualify. Their conversation of a month ago returned to her, and she remembered her promise to help him find a wife he could love. There was no indication that either of these ladies were interested in him so much as the crown on his head and his rugged good looks.

For some reason, her enthusiasm for the evening felt dampened. She supposed it was the thought of all the posturing and competing that would take place over the next week. Eomer, and possibly herself as well, would suffer all manner of approaches by those interested in gaining something socially or politically by aligning themselves with a noble house. This had all been much easier to take when she was too young for marriage, and the attention of men was just harmless flirtation.

Excusing himself from the two women, who were seated elsewhere, Eomer made his way to take his seat next to his sister. Normally, he would have been seated next to the king and queen of Gondor, but Elessar had assumed he would rather spend much of the remaining time before Eowyn’s wedding with her.

As the meal was beginning, Lothiriel and Amrothos moved to their seats across the table from Eomer, Eowyn and Faramir. Once Amrothos had seated her, Lothiriel glanced up to find Eomer gazing at her fixedly. She smiled a bit hesitantly, uncertain what his perusal meant.

A moment later, he seemed to snap out of whatever reverie had taken him and he returned her smile, saying quietly, “You look lovely this evening, Thiri.”

“Thank you,” she acknowledged. “You clean up rather well yourself,” she teased.

He chuckled and ducked his head a moment. When he looked up again, she commented, “And I see the ladies have already taken notice of you....”

A look of annoyance crossed his face. “Yes, they waylaid me in the entrance hall before I could come in. That is why I was late to arrive.”

Keeping a straight face, she asked him, “I should continue looking then? You have not yet found what you are seeking?”

He grinned at her teasing. “No, not yet. Certainly neither of those two.”

Just then Amrothos coughed, and when they glanced in his direction it was to find Eowyn, Faramir and Amrothos all listening to their conversation in puzzlement.

“Do not mind us,” Amrothos scolded. “We will talk amongst ourselves until the two of you have finished with this secret discussion.”

Lothiriel elbowed him. “Behave, brother. Our words relate to a conversation we had previously, which I will not go into now. Suffice it to say, it should be of little concern to you.”

Amrothos shrugged and lost interest, though Eowyn and Faramir turned away more slowly, wondering what was going on. When Lothiriel dared glance at Eomer, he gave her a grateful wink and she suppressed a smile behind her napkin.

The food was brought in and conversation lagged during the eating, but the volume of sound resumed as the guests completed their meals. At last, the tables were moved out of the way for dancing while the musicians came in and set up. As the preparations were being made, the guests began to gather in small groups, enjoying a glass of wine or obtaining a tankard of ale that was now available to them.

While they waited, Lothiriel had the opportunity to introduce Eowyn to Alcathir, and make known the latter’s willingness to speak with Eowyn privately. The two had the chance to become acquainted as they stood there, making Eowyn less uncomfortable with the idea of discussing such a subject with a stranger.

The musicians were finally in place and began the first number, and slowly partners began trickling onto the floor. Lothiriel looked expectantly at Amrothos, but he raised his hands. “Not me. Father has made it clear he expects to have the first dance with you! I will wait my turn.” 

Imrahil arrived beside his youngest son and smiled. “Parental prerogative,” he told them, having overheard Amrothos’ remarks. Offering Lothiriel his hand, they moved onto the floor and slipped in among the other dancers.

After a few moments quiet examination of her, he smiled. “It would seem Rohan suited you, dearest. You appear to be in far better spirits than when I left you in August.”

She grinned in response. “And I am sure you will take all the credit for my recovery. I told you I would be well again, but you did not give it enough time. However, I will admit that I have enjoyed my visit to Edoras, and the time I spent with Eowyn. I even learned to ride a horse.”

“Yes. I was rather amazed to see you arrive astride a horse rather than in a carriage…or riding side-saddle.” The last was said disapprovingly.

Eyeing him innocently, she answered, “It is your own fault. If you had made sure I learned to ride in Dol Amroth, it would have been in a side-saddle. Since you left me to acquire the skill on my own, and I sought the best teachers, I was schooled in a different fashion. Though, in truth, I have heard few ladies say they enjoy riding who ride in that style. Many women in Rohan, who ride astride, find it a pleasant activity. Besides, it is too late to change me now. You are stuck with me riding astride. And it is your _own_ fault!”

“Yes, so you said earlier. Very well, I will take the blame for forcing you to remain there. I should have known you would find some way to get even with me for it!”

She gave him a secretive smile in response, which made him somewhat nervous about what else she might have up her sleeve to punish him with in retaliation. It would be nothing mean-spirited, of course, but Lothiriel had always seemed to find a way to make known her displeasure with being forced into anything. Still, the peace was back in her eyes, and her smile was genuine. That was worth any minor pokes she might take at him.

When the dance ended, he kissed her cheek, and told her, “Go and enjoy yourself. And do not torment these poor men by dancing only with your brothers and cousin!”

She laughed at his teasing and accepted the goblet of wine Amrothos offered her. Once she had caught her breath and quenched her thirst, the two swung into the next dance that began. 

In succession, behind Amrothos, came her other two brothers and then a steady stream of eager men, both young and old. Apparently dancing with the daughter of a prince was a treat at any age, and she felt she had to be agreeable rather than slight anyone in particular, though several she had regretted accepting. 

The worst of the lot was a portly nobleman who informed her straight away that he was a widower. He was clearly inebriated and kept pulling her closer than was appropriate, holding her in a way that made her uncomfortable. She was just trying to decide how rude it would be for her to yank free and leave him on the dance floor, when a shadow fell across them.

They both looked up to find Eomer standing with a hand on the man’s shoulder. “May I cut in?” There was a steely look in his eyes that indicated he would not take ‘no’ for an answer, and Lothiriel’s partner apparently recognized Rohan’s king. Anxious not to rebuff a king, no matter how appealing the lady, the man released her to the newcomer. 

“Of course, my lord,” he simpered, stumbling away to get another drink.

Lothiriel shut her eyes with relief as Eomer pulled her beside him and swept her along. After a moment, she looked up at him and smiled gratefully. “Thank you. I was about to do something very rude in order to escape him.”

He leaned close to her ear and whispered, “I know. I was watching from the side and saw he was being overly friendly with you. And that you did not appreciate it. I purposely came to rescue you, though the young lady trying to impress me was rather displeased with my departure.”

For an instant, she ducked her head and laughed, then looked up to meet his eyes. “We are quite the pair, are we not?”

Without her noticing, he had been working them toward the doors that exited off to the gardens. When they reached them, he caught her hand and pulled her after him outside. Once there, they walked to a low wall and he released her hand to stretch and rub his neck. “I hope you do not mind. I thought we both could do with some fresh air.”

“Not at all. I am glad you thought of it.” She watched as he leaned on the wall, his shoulders slumped.

Reaching to rub his back, she asked gently, “What troubles you?”

He sighed, but turned to face her. “I am delighted that Eowyn has found happiness, but tonight…tonight I was reminded what I do not have, and what I must find…and how unlikely I am to find it in there.” He gestured toward the hall with his chin.

Lothiriel looked down at her feet, then told him, “I am sorry. I have been enjoying the dancing, for the most part,” she admitted. “I did not notice your predicament. I should have come to _your_ rescue!”

He chuckled at that. “Well, it might have helped me, but you would have done yourself no favors. If looks could kill, you would no doubt have many daggers in your back when I let you steal me away from them.”

“There is only one thing to be done then,” she announced.

He eyed her curiously, waiting for her to continue.

“I wish to dance. You wish to avoid the ladies snapping at your heels. Therefore, you will have to dance with me all night in order to keep them at bay! Though you will have to risk their attack when I insist on dancing with my brothers! But you are a soldier of some repute. Surely you can manage on your own for those brief periods…”

Now he laughed heartily. “A fair bargain, I think. But if I monopolize your dancing, whatever will all the men do who wish to slobber on Imrahil’s daughter?”

She made a face at him. “For some reason, I find it hard to care what they do so long as they stay away from me!”

She paused, then looked at him more solemnly. “There is one danger though, my friend.”

His right eyebrow quirked upward, and she added, “If we spend much time in one another’s company, there is likely to be speculation of an alliance between Dol Amroth and Rohan – both among rumormongers and matchmakers.”

Eomer’s jaw twitched, but he only commented, “There are worse fates I could suffer. It would not matter to me what anyone said, but I would not do anything to harm your reputation in any way. What is your opinion on it?”

She thought a moment, then said, “I do not mind. And I do not think my reputation will suffer that others think I am admired by the king of Rohan!”

“Well, that part they would have gotten right. I do admire you, but then I should not be surprised by that. Your father is a remarkable man. I would expect nothing less from his daughter.”

“Lothiriel?” a voice called from the doorway behind her.

They both turned at the sound; it was Erchirion. “I am here, brother,” she answered.

He moved toward them, scowling slightly until he saw who she was with. “Oh, Eomer. I did not recognize you in the darkness.”

“Come to protect your little sister from evil men, no doubt,” Eomer jested. “Fear not, I have already rescued her from same, and we were merely talking a bit before returning to the fray.”

“Rescued her? From whom?” Erchirion asked, his temper rising.

“Calm down, brother. An inebriated nobleman. He did no real harm and Eomer spared me suffering his company any longer. All is well.”

Erchirion relaxed a bit. “Actually, Elphir is looking for you. He and Alcathir want to call it a night and wanted to bid you good evening before they left.”

Lothiriel took his arm. “Very well. Lead me to them.” Looking back at Eomer, she added, “Will you join us?”

Pushing himself away from the wall, he nodded. “I suppose so. What is the point of moonlight without a pretty lady to keep you company?”

“Charmer! No wonder you have to beat the ladies off with a stick! And you told me you did not know how to be flowery and romantic!”

Erchirion was giving them a puzzled look at their banter, but they did not notice, continuing back into the hall. Elphir and Alcathir were soon located and farewells said. Since he was near, Lothiriel claimed Erchirion for the next dance while Eomer went in search of some wine for her and ale for himself.

The plan Eomer and Lothiriel had hatched worked well the remainder of the evening. Staying near one another dissuaded others from approaching and the rest of the night was pleasant enough. Eomer departed early himself, since he was to meet with Elessar in the morning, and Lothiriel did so as well less than an hour later.

_to be continued_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Eomer and Lothiriel arrived at the doors to the King’s council chambers, and the guards admitted them, curiously eyeing Lothiriel. There was a similar reaction inside the room. Elessar looked up in puzzlement. “Lady Lothiriel, we were not expecting you to join us.”

Her father was shooting her a questioning look as well, clearly unable to comprehend any reason for her to be there. Lothiriel shifted her gaze to Eomer and deferred to him. With a slight nod, he announced, “My lords, I have asked the Gondorian Ambassador from Dol Amroth to accompany me, and speak in Rohan’s behalf on certain matters.”

Just barely, the gathered men kept their jaws from dropping, and Imrahil rubbed his temple with an anxious motion. _What in the world was his daughter up to now?_

Avoiding making eye contact with her father, and restraining a smirk, Lothiriel seated herself in the chair held by Eomer. A moment later he was beside her and they looked calmly to Elessar to begin the meeting.

Overcoming his astonishment, Elessar cleared his throat. “Yes, well, we welcome the Ambassador from Dol Amroth and look forward to hearing what she has to say.”

Under the table, Eomer nudged Lothiriel’s leg with his knee and she bit back a smile. The two of them were enjoying this immensely.

Elessar covered various general matters and then turned to Eomer. “So, my friend, we come to the subject of Rohan. What is the situation there and how may Gondor be of assistance?” He managed to keep his gaze fixed on the other king, though he suspected the answer would come from another source.

His suspicions were confirmed when Lothiriel cleared her throat. All eyes shifted to her and she gave them a disarming smile. “Gentlemen, last August my father requested I remain in Edoras as a goodwill Ambassador to that land, and make myself useful to the king in his recovery efforts.” Faramir began coughing, which all knew was likely caused by his attempt to hold back his laughter, and Lothiriel paused while he salvaged his composure.

The next moment, she launched into an outline of the circumstances in Rohan, the measures that had already been taken and their assessment of needs at this point in time to see them through the coming winter. When she finished, none could deny she had made an excellent presentation.

Elessar considered her words carefully, then glanced at his Steward. “Faramir?”

Faramir pulled himself from his mental calculations and nodded. “We can meet their needs, my Lord. It will take a bit of time to gather all that they request, but it can be sent in several shipments so they can begin dispersing the goods as needed. I will make the appropriate arrangements. The first shipment should be able to accompany them on their return home.”

Gondor’s king turned back to Lothiriel and inquired, “Do you believe this is a one-time request, or will further aid be needed in the future?”

Lothiriel thought a moment, and looked at Eomer. A slight jerk of his chin indicated she should give her opinion. “For the moment, my lord, we believe this will be sufficient. Once the winter is past, we can determine how much of the land will allow crop growing. Mud bricks or sod have been used effectively in homes in Gondor, and could possibly be implemented to make up for the lack of wood available. Rohan already makes use of some peat for fuel. We will continue to seek alternatives to the usual methods in an attempt to become self-sufficent as soon as possible. Already, soldiers are assisting in planting for the spring where the soil is unscathed, and the villagers have been relocated closer to Edoras for the time being.”

“Then we will wait and see what the future brings. Clearly no fault can be found in your own efforts to provide for yourselves, and we will gladly assist wherever there is a need beyond what you can do,” Elessar assured them.

With that, they turned their attention to other matters, and Lothiriel leaned back in her chair, letting out a slight breath of relief. She had not doubted that Gondor would provide aid, but she had been nervous about taking the lead in the request. While she had sat in council meetings with her father, usually she took a fairly inactive part – more a presence than anything else. This was her first real taste of direct involvement, and it had proven frightening, but satisfying.

When the meeting ended a short time later, Lothiriel attempted a quick escape, but was not surprised when she heard her father’s voice ring out. “Lothiriel, may I speak with you?”

Arranging her face into an impassive expression, she turned to him with a smile. As she did so, she saw Eomer watching her out of the corner of his eye from where he was speaking with Elessar. “Yes, Father?”

Imrahil gave a sigh as he eyed his daughter and queried, “You took me at my word, then?”

Smiling sweetly, she reminded him, “I did only what you asked, Father. You instructed me to make myself useful to Rohan and I have attempted to do so. As it turned out, the king welcomed my assistance in petitioning Gondor for supplies.”

“You know very well that this is not the sort of thing I had in mind when I mentioned that to you, young lady!”

“Perhaps not, but you should have been more explicit if there were things you did not wish me to do in accomplishing that purpose,” she answered mildly.

Eomer suddenly appeared at Lothiriel’s side before Imrahil could respond, and announced, “I cannot thank you enough, my friend, for the loan of your daughter. Her assistance has proven invaluable, as you have seen.”

Imrahil glanced at his daughter and then shrugged in defeat. “I am glad she could help, Eomer. And I must thank you for all you and Rohan have done to put the smile back on her face.” Then he added sarcastically, “And given her back her sense of humor!” 

Faramir joined them just then, catching Imrahil’s final remark, and grinned at his cousin. To his uncle he commented, “Well, certainly, you must admit...she is the loveliest ambassador Gondor has ever known!” Imrahil reluctantly smiled and participated in the laughter.

xxxxx

With that meeting out of the way, the party from Rohan was at their leisure until the wedding. Lothiriel divided her time between Eowyn and her family. Despite her father’s misgivings, she also made it a point to go riding each day, especially since she wanted to stay in shape for the ride back to Edoras. She still hesitated to mention it to her family, knowing they would argue with her about it and she did not want it to dampen the festive mood leading into the wedding. 

Since Eomer wanted to keep in daily touch with Eothain and the Eorlingas camped on the Pelennor, he accompanied Lothiriel to the camp so that Eothain could continue her riding lessons. Usually, Eomer would ride along with them and take care of business with Eothain as the three of them rode.

Amrothos was the only one who really complained about Lothiriel’s time spent with the Eorlingas, having assumed once she arrived at Minas Tirith her sole focus would return to her family. She had tried inviting him to join them, but he declined that, and she knew he was trying to make her feel guilty enough to stop going. In exasperation, she finally told him, “Amrothos, these are my friends and I enjoy their company. I also enjoy riding. You may join us if you wish, but I will not stop spending time with them and doing something I enjoy simply because you are behaving like a petulant little boy!”

His next tactic was to start accompanying her, but then he became a heavy-handed chaperone and began taking offense at every little thing that Eothain said or did. He did not quite dare do the same with Eomer, but his actions toward Eothain were sufficiently annoying. The third time he showed up to join them, Lothiriel drew the line. “You are not coming with us, Amrothos. Not unless you can manage to bite your tongue. I do not want you to say one word to Eothain. Glare at him all you wish, he will not care, but you will not take him to task about his behavior with me!”

“It is my duty to–” he began, but she cut him off.

“I do not want to hear it! You will be silent or you will not come!” she declared.

The two stood glaring at one another several moments before he finally stomped away in annoyance. When he was gone, Eomer cautiously exited his room that was right next door to Lothiriel’s. He had been about to go and meet her when he heard their altercation in the hallway, and had thought it wise to remain out of sight.

Lothiriel gave him a weak smile and informed him, “Amrothos will not be joining us today.” Turning on her heel, she headed briskly down the hall, and Eomer quickly moved to follow her.

He considered mentioning the matter to her, but thought perhaps it would be wise to let her anger subside first. Even so, her ire had not dissipated by the time they had ridden down through the city and out onto the plains. When they joined Eothain, Eomer quickly gave him a look that recommended he not comment on her ill mood. Once they were away from the camp, Eomer suggested a gallop and led the way. The exhilaration of their speed and freedom did what words could not, and when they finally reined in, Lothiriel once more had a smile on her face.

On the way back, she told them, “I apologize for Amrothos. He and I have always been close and done just about everything together. It is difficult for him to accept that I might choose to do something that does not involve or focus on him. And I am very sorry he was so rude to you, Eothain. Please forgive him.”

Eothain grinned at her. “Not to worry, my lady. Were I your brother, likely I would be just as jealous and protective of you!”

She made a face at him. “Liar! But thank you for understanding.”

xxxxx

Fortunately, the day of the wedding had arrived, and petty differences were set aside. Despite everything, Eowyn was a bundle of nerves right up until the moment she joined Faramir to stand before King Elessar. One look in the eyes of her betrothed settled her, and the two gazed so lovingly at one another they at times became oblivious to the proceedings and had to be nudged verbally by the king.

At length, the happily wed couple were presented to the assembled well-wishers, and the celebration began in earnest. While there had been much celebrating when the king was married to his queen, the people of Gondor had a special place in their hearts for the Steward, and partying was taking place throughout the city. Elessar had suggested that the couple ride through the streets to greet the people and so they followed his instructions, to the delight of the Gondorians.

Without prompting, Faramir took it upon himself to stop frequently and favor the crowd with a kiss for his new wife, which was met by loud cheering. Eowyn did not seem to object to this in the slightest, even initiating a few of the kisses herself when he seemed to be leaving too many people out of the fun.

Their ride had been expected to take close to two hours, but they didn’t reappear at the Citadel until more than three hours later. By then, the feast was set up and waiting, and immediately began upon their arrival. It lasted long into the night, but well before it ground to a halt, the happy couple slipped away to enjoy their union in private.

The Rohirrim had made attempts to keep the couple apart, in an effort to torment them, but they had failed to take into account that they were dealing with the Steward of Gondor who was in his home territory. It turned out that Eowyn had warned Faramir what might be attempted, and he had arranged an escape route, utilizing some little known tunnels and secret passages in the city. Eowyn’s countrymen were disappointed that their fun was so quickly routed, but found great solace in the excellent ale provided for the occasion.

Normally, Eomer would have participated in harrassing the newly wed couple, but as Eowyn’s brother he felt obligated to abstain in this instance. Instead he watched the proceedings with a bemused expression, and once they had made their escape, he slipped out into the gardens off the terrace.

Lothiriel had been observing the revelry from a table where she sat with Erchirion. He rose to ask a young lady to dance, and Lothiriel took the opportunity to follow Eomer outside. She found him standing in shadow, leaning against a pillar and staring at the stars.

“Are you well?” she asked softly.

He did not seem surprised by her presence, and slowly turned his gaze to her for a moment. Dropping his eyes to the ground, he nodded. “I suppose so, but I will miss her sorely. For a long time, we were as close as two people could be. Then as we got older, and I joined an eored, I was gone a great deal. We were still close, but the distance made it difficult. And all the worries about our uncle and Rohan and Mordor made everything...harder. When the War ended, we had a chance to become close again. I will miss that – having her near to talk with, having her guidance, having...Eowyn.” He shifted with embarrassment at his sentimentality.

“She feels the same way, you know,” Lothiriel answered quietly. “I am sure it seems as though her attention is solely on Faramir, and that in her happiness you are forgotten, but that is not so. She has told me how hard it is for her to leave you, and Rohan, despite her great love for Faramir.” She paused, then added, “I thought you should know.”

He nodded slightly. “Thank you.” 

In the darkness, she could just barely discern him wiping at his eyes, but she pretended to take no notice. Slowly she walked over beside him, and slipped her arm through his to offer what comfort she could. A few moments later, he slipped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to his side.

They stood a while in silence, and then he ventured, “When will you tell your family that you are returning to Rohan?”

Letting out a sigh, she scuffed the ground with her foot. “Tomorrow, I suppose. I have put it off long enough, but I did not want to face the arguments and risk them spoiling Eowyn’s wedding festivities.”

“You think they will object then?” he asked, with some surprise.

“Amrothos certainly will!” she exclaimed, and he laughed in agreement. “Elphir and Erchirion may raise objections as well, but they will not be too difficult if it is what I choose to do. Father is the one I am not certain about. Though it was his idea initially for me to stay and visit with you, I am not clear on what he might say about this. He may believe it a good thing, or he may feel it would be inappropriate, with Eowyn no longer there. I do not know.”

“And what if he disapproves?” Eomer asked reluctantly.

She did not answer immediately, considering the question seriously. At last, she looked up at him. “I would do all that I could to change his mind. I did not make the offer lightly, and I mean to honor it if I possibly can. Father could refuse to allow it, but I can be most determined when I wish to be. He knows he will regret opposing me if I feel strongly about something. He has already seen evidence of that here!”

Eomer pondered her words then told her, “I do not wish to cause problems between you and your father, nor do I wish to make an enemy of Imrahil. If it comes to it, I would rather release you from your offer than cause a rift in relations. Know that, and do not let the disagreement get too far out of hand.”

She nodded slowly, then looked up with a grin. “Enough of this depressing talk. Will the king of Rohan dance one final dance with me before I call it a night?”

Eomer smiled in return, then got a mischievous look on his face. “I can hear the music quite well from here. Must we go back inside?”

With a laugh, she curtsied to him. “Not at all. Here will do just fine. In fact, I think it might be preferable!”

They stepped toward each other, grasping hands as they began the slow movements of the dance. When it ended, Eomer offered his arm and they strolled back to their rooms. At her door, he bent and kissed her forehead, murmuring, “Thank you for your friendship, Lothiriel. It means a great deal to me.”

_to be continued_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _When I posted this story on fanfiction.net, my readers made comment about certain things, including dancing._
> 
> _"In the Medieval Ages dance was a group rather than a pair activity. And touching any other bodypart besides the hands of your partner would have been cosidered highly inproper. And Medieval Dances were everything but slow." I surfed the Net on Medieval dancing (although I had a sneaking suspicion that the reader was right). They did dance as couples for some dances, though usually still in groups, and hands and elbows was generally all that made contact. Some dances were called "sedate". However, that said, I'd pretty much have to agree that this story (and most of fan fiction) does not accurately depict dancing appropriate to that time period. I can only plead literary license - it's tough doing a romance with all the strictures that were actually in place. Many of the marriages of that time had little to do with romance and much to do with economics, etc. As for the dancing on the terrace - no one could see them so they were being scandalous! Most of the time I try to stay pretty accurate, but sometimes it just makes a more enjoyable story to get a bit AU on the historical detail. Strictly speaking, much that goes on in this story (and most others) is stretching it. There likely wasn't this level of "familiarity" among people either._
> 
> _"This IS Middle-earth, not 13th century England; and while Middle-earth is strongly patterned off of medieval lifestyles, it's not entirely rigid about the traditions, either." – after I posted my comments, that thought occurred to me also. Though there are strong similarities, we know that despite the usual arranged marriages that took place for "advantage" in Medieval times, at least two couples chose to marry for love and no one had any objections. So clearly Tolkien didn't strictly follow the rules of that time period either. Still, I want to try and avoid getting "too modern", so a reality check now and then is a good thing._


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

As predicted, Lothiriel’s family did not take her news well. Once breakfast was ended the next day, and everyone was sitting around chatting about the wedding, Lothiriel brought up the subject and announced her intention of returning to Rohan for the winter.

Before her family could respond, Queen Arwen put forth her opinion. “That is wonderful, Lothiriel. How generous of you to take your time to assist Rohan in their rebuilding. I am sure you will be a great help to them.”

With that said, it made arguments against the proposal more difficult, and her two eldest brothers’ comments were diplomatic and noncommittal. They did little more than agree to go along with what everyone else decided. Amrothos could not refrain from disagreeing, and used the ‘propriety’ factor as his reason. That left only Imrahil to weigh in, but before he could do so, Eomer commented, “My friend, I realize this is unusual and, without my sister there, perhaps a bit irregular. But I assure you, you need have no fear, for Lothiriel will be watched over and protected as if she were my own sister. And she has already provided me with much wise counsel.”

King Elessar watched the group discussing the matter before glancing at his wife. She smiled serenely at him and he had a strong suspicion that she knew more about this than she was letting on. He could see both sides of this argument, but if Arwen favored it, he tended to think it was the right thing. He knew her judgement to be excellent, not to mention the benefit of her Elvish instincts.

Imrahil sat rubbing at his temple, something Lothiriel knew he did when he was worried. Finally, he looked up and met her eyes. “You are certain you wish to do this?”

She nodded. “Yes, Father. There are four of you in Dol Amroth and I am not truly needed there. Rohan was much harder hit than we were, and anything I can do to help them recover would be an honor. Please, Father. I promise I will behave in a proper manner, and there will be little reason for anyone to gossip. The only real danger is that some might think there is a romantic link between me and the king, but we will give them no evidence to support that and any such rumors will soon die out.”

Imrahil turned his attention to Eomer. “Very well, my friend, my daughter may stay with you a while longer. But I am counting on you to keep her safe – from harm _or_ accusation.”

Eomer nodded his understanding. “Of course! You have no need to worry. I give you my word.”

It was clear that Amrothos was not pleased with the decision, but there was little he could do about it. Angrily he rose and left the room before he said something he would regret. When he was gone, Imrahil turned to his daughter and told her, “It will be up to you to work this out with Amrothos, dearest. I can make him go along with it, but I cannot make him like it.”

Lothiriel sighed and nodded. “I know. I will speak with him.”

Not until the day before the party from Rohan was to leave, a week later, would Amrothos allow Lothiriel to discuss the matter. He came to her room while she was packing and stood uncertainly in the door when she opened it. After a moment of the two staring at each other, she gestured for him to enter and asked the maidservant to come back in an hour.

When they were alone, Amrothos moved to the window and shifted nervously from foot to foot. Biting her lip, Lothiriel decided to make the first move and came up behind him, slipping her arms around his waist and laying her head on his back. He stood stiffly for a moment, then relaxed with a mournful sigh. “Must you do this, Thiri?”

“Yes. I am needed there, brother. You know that. But I will miss you _greatly_ and I hope you will write to me when you can.”

He turned in her arms and wrapped his around her shoulders, laying his cheek against the top of her head. “I suppose you must grow up and move on, but I do not want to lose you.”

“You are not losing me. I will only be gone a few months more and then I will return home.”

“But for how long? Someday you will leave home for good, when you marry. Whatever will I do without you?”

She reached up and kissed his cheek. “You will find a wonderful girl and fall in love yourself, and then you will not notice my absence so much. Now promise me you will not spend the next few months doing nothing but moping around. There is much work that needs doing at home, and there is many a girl who would welcome your attention. I should very much like to receive a letter from you telling me you are betrothed!”

He chuckled. “I make no promises in that respect, but I will seriously look for a wife. To please you.”

“No – to please you.”

xxxxx

And then the trip to Rohan was underway. It felt a little strange to be making the journey without Eowyn, and Lothiriel found that she, too, missed the woman’s company.

Once they arrived in Edoras, Lothiriel unexpectedly discovered that she felt a little awkward around Eomer. When Eowyn had been there, she had a defined role to play, but that was not the case now. With the coming of November, the rainy weather began, which kept her from riding or gardening, and leaving her at loose ends. She and Eomer still took their meals together, and he still sought her input on various matters of state, but the rest of the day she was left to her own devices. Eothain had responsibilities of his own, so she did not think it fair to monopolize his time to keep herself amused.

Having so much time on her hands, she wrote more letters home than before, but made sure to mention she was doing so before bad weather slowed or stopped correspondence, rather than from boredom. Nearly two weeks into her visit, however, she decided she could not continue like this for the remainder of her time, and presented herself to Eledferth, the head housekeeper of Meduseld.

She outlined her dilemma to the older woman, then asked, “Is there anything useful I might be able to do? I can cook and sew, and I am happy to help in any way possible. I would think with Lady Eowyn gone, you could make use of another pair of hands.”

The woman eyed her speculatively. Normally, she would never entertain the notion of allowing a noblewoman to work in the house. Still, she had observed this particular lady for the past several months, and she knew Lothiriel had never hesitated to help when needed. And she had taught Lady Eowyn to cook… Eowyn’s absence would be felt as they prepared for the winter and certainly she could use the extra help.

She nodded decisively. “If the king does not object, I can use you. With winter coming on, we will be slaughtering and preparing meat, and there is much spinning, weaving and sewing that needs to be done. The poor are in desperate need of clothing.”

Lothiriel beamed at her. “Thank you! I shall bring the matter up with the king and, once I have his approval, I will report to you for work!”

She seized the opportunity at the midday meal to mention it, and Eomer stared at her in astonishment. “You wish to work? Lothiriel, you are our guest! That is not necessary.”

“Eomer, there is nothing for me to do, especially when it rains. I should much rather do something useful than stare out at the damp, or sit idly by the fire. And I did come to Edoras to help! Let me do this! Eowyn would be doing it – it is no different.”

The king sighed, but looked at her with a resigned expression. “Thank you. Your aid would be greatly appreciated. I just…I do not like to think I am taking advantage of your good nature.”

“If you had asked me to do this, or tried to coerce me in some way, that would be taking advantage. But I am offering this of my own free will. I have never been very good at whiling away my time in idleness. I am sure Eledferth will not allow me to scrub chamber pots, but I can make use of my skills in other ways.”

He laughed at the notion, and mental image, of Lothiriel surrounded by dirty chamber pots. “I definitely will not agree to your doing that! But you are correct, Eledferth would never allow it even if I would! She has very definite ideas about what a lady may and may not do!”

And so Lothiriel found her time occupied for the remainder of that day and most thereafter. Since she had never been involved in slaughtering animals, and preparing them to be smoked and salted to keep through the winter, she was given other tasks more befitting a lady and commensurate with her skills. She often ended up baking breads or preparing stews, and she was soon given a great deal of mending and sewing to work on whenever she had time.

When the weather permitted, she continued her riding lessons with Eothain and, before she knew it, her life at Meduseld had settled into a pleasant routine.

xxxxx

The winter chill of December brought several heavy snows and, after the first big snowfall, Lothiriel stood at a window gazing out at the crystalline whiteness in awe. Winters in Dol Amroth were temperate for the most part, and they never got snow there. She had seen it in the distance, on the mountains, but had never had occasion to see it close up before. 

Eomer happened upon her during her study of this new phenomenon, and came to find out what held her attention so raptly. When she explained, he let out a laugh. “I suppose I am so used to it that I do not give it a thought. Now that you mention it, I can see the beauty of it and why it would impress you so.”

He stood idly beside her, gazing out as well, then broke into a grin. “Go and dress warmly. Wear your riding outfit, and warm leggings and boots. Be sure to wear your gloves and cover your head. It is beautiful, but cold. You cannot truly say you have experienced snow until you have been out in it!”

With childlike excitement, she hurried away to do as he bid, and he moved to his bedchamber to dress appropriately also. A short time later, they returned to the window and he led the way out to the back terrace of Meduseld.

For several moments, Lothiriel only stood and gazed in awe at the shrouded landscape and the blowing snow. Tentatively, she stooped and scooped up a handful to examine more closely. With amusement, Eomer watched her marveling at it, and then mischievously scooped up a handful of his own. Packing it into a loose ball, he lobbed it at her. By the time she looked up to see what had hit her, he had another ready and clipped her gently in the shoulder with it.

She watched him gather enough for the next volley, and then followed his example as she made an effort to dodge the snowball he tossed in her direction. To no avail – it hit her anyway. His aim was extremely accurate. Giggling, she squealed and tried again to dodge, tossing one back at him. Not to her surprise, it missed, and a moment later he had smacked her with two more. The longer the battle raged, the better her aim got, but still her efforts fell short, and every single one of his connected. Granted, he was throwing them gently so as not to hurt her, but it was the principle of the thing. Laughing even more, she took up the challenge, determined not to be the only one hit.

At the front of Meduseld, Eothain kicked the snow from his boots, then brushed away what had settled in his hair and on his shoulders, before being admitted into the Golden Hall. Once inside, he strode quickly to the firepit to warm his hands. He had only been there a few minutes when Gamling appeared through a door behind the throne area, and moved towards him.

He nodded cordially at the Doorward. “Is Eomer available? I would speak with him.”

With a slight smirk, Gamling replied, “Last I saw, he and Lothiriel were out on the back terrace…having a snowball fight!”

Eothain’s head jerked up and he grinned. “Is that so?”

Gamling waved for him to follow, and led him to a shuttered window at the back of the hall. Opening it carefully to a crack, he peered around a moment, and then signaled Eothain to take his place at the slit.

After observing briefly, they silently closed the shutter. With a knowing smile, Eothain told the other man, “I think I shall not disturb the king, as he is so pleasantly occupied. Our conversation can wait!”

Meanwhile, outside, Lothiriel had given up trying to hit Eomer with a snowball and turned to hiding from his assault. This proved difficult, however, as there was little cover to be had on the terrace. Finally, with as vicious a roar as she could muster, she charged at him. Caught off guard by this maneuver, Eomer was unprepared when she crashed full tilt into his chest and they both tumbled to the ground, with Lothiriel laying on top of him. Laughing triumphantly, she quickly sat up, straddling his stomach and pinning his shoulders down with her hands, declaring, “What Dol Amroth lacks in skill, we more than make up for in determination! Do you surrender?”

Eomer grinned, and in one swift motion heaved upward and to the side. In an instant, he had reversed their positions. “Rohan _never_ surrenders!” he asserted. “However, we will concede the cleverness of Dol Amroth’s approach in dealing with the situation!”

The wrestling had knocked the shawl loose from covering her head, and Lothiriel’s hair splayed in a dark pool across the snow. The frozen whiteness was cold against her head and neck. When she looked up, to give in and be let up, her eyes met Eomer’s. It seemed to Lothiriel that the rapid beat of her heart was caused by more than just her exertion, but laying there in the snow with someone sitting on top of her made it oddly difficult to analyze. She did not feel the cold any longer, and all she could focus on was the pair of hazel eyes staring into her own. A moment later, Eomer’s grin faltered and he stood in an easy motion, pulling her up with him. “You will catch cold if you lay on the wet ground very long,” he explained lamely.

He couldn’t quite imagine why he was standing there noticing how lovely she looked, even covered with snow. Shaking himself mentally, he smiled again and began brushing the snow off her cloak and from her hair. “Are you about ready to go in and warm yourself?” he asked hoarsely, though reluctant to end their play together.

“I suppose that would be a good idea,” she answered softly. “We have been out here quite a while.”

With the slightest of hesitation, Eomer took her hand and led the way back inside. They moved silently toward the Golden Hall and headed for the firepit to warm themselves. As they stood holding their hands over the blaze, warmth seeping slowly in, Lothiriel finally commented, “Thank you! That was wonderful. I think I would have to say that I like snow, even if certain people use it to my disadvantage!”

Eomer chuckled. “I am sorry. I could not resist. Besides, what is snow if you do not play in it?”

Just then a servant put in appearance, bearing a tray with two mugs of steaming liquid. She approached them and said, “My lord, Gamling thought you might like something hot to drink.”

Eomer thanked her and took the mugs, handing one to Lothiriel. It turned out they contained a hot spiced cider, which both tasted good and warmed their insides. When they had finished their drinks, Eomer recommended, “We should go change out of these wet clothes so we do not catch cold.” He paused, then added, “I will see you at supper.”

Once alone in her room, Lothiriel slowly pulled off the damp clothing and laid it over chairs in front of the fire to dry. She quickly redressed before she became chilled, and only then did she allow herself to ponder what had taken place on the terrace. Until that moment, she had never thought of Eomer as anything more than a dear friend, but now she could not escape the realization that her feelings ran deeper than that. In that moment, gazing up into his eyes, she had wanted desperately for him to kiss her.

She shook her head, both in annoyance and disappointment. Whatever had happened, it was all on her side. Eomer clearly had not felt anything for her, then or before. She must bury her feelings and do nothing that would make him uncomfortable around her, as he surely would be if he knew she had developed an infatuation with him.

But doing so was easier said than done. After that, Lothiriel found it more difficult not to watch him, and she had to be careful not to be caught staring. As the days, and then weeks, turned into months, however, and he gave no indication of noticing anything had changed, she resigned herself to the situation.

_to be continued_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Despite the snows of December and much of January, by February the worst weather was largely over with, and though the days were often bleak and glowering, they suffered only a chill wind, grey skies and rain at least once a week. 

As March arrived, the shrubs and trees in the garden began to bud, and eventually some of the flowers nudged through the soil. Lothiriel enjoyed watching her hard work come to fruition, and she kept the garden neatly tended, with the help of the newly assigned gardener. The sight of the flowering plants and organization inspired him, and soon he was as enthusiastic about it as Lothiriel was. It pleased her that the plot of land would be cared for when she returned home, and her efforts would not come to naught.

Home. They had not set a date for her departure, and though she was anxious to see her family again, she knew it would be difficult to say goodbye to her friends here. And it would be especially hard to leave Eomer. Even if her feelings were not returned, she could not help caring about him, and some part of her was convinced he needed her help. Still, she knew her father would never agree to lengthening her stay any more than she already had. She would go back to Dol Amroth and Eomer would be a fond memory. They would visit occasionally, and eventually each would likely marry someone and raise a family. And that would be the end of it.

At the midday dinner three weeks later, Lothiriel was surprised to find Eomer tense and on edge. “What is wrong, Eomer? Has something happened?” she asked.

With a sigh, he explained, “The orcs had a difficult time of it during the winter. They are hungry and have begun attacking the more outlying villages that are still occupied, taking whatever food they can find and killing the livestock.”

More than a little afraid of his answer, she queried, “What will you do?”

His eyes came up to meet hers. “I will ride out with Eothain’s eored tomorrow. We will drive them back sufficiently or kill them, until they are no longer a threat.”

Lothiriel had never liked warfare of any kind. Too many were wounded or killed, even when merely defending themselves, but she also understood that sometimes it could not be avoided. The thought of both Eomer and Eothain riding into battle filled her with almost as much dread as she had felt when her brothers and father had gone to fight. But there was nothing she could do other than sit and wait, hoping they came safely home. She had hoped the defeat of Sauron had signaled the end of such things, but she knew it was mostly just wishful thinking on her part. She would do what she had always done – wait and watch and ask the Valar to protect them.

Despite their pre-dawn departure, Lothiriel made it a point to rise and see them off. Both seemed pleased by her effort, and tried to reassure her they would return quickly and that this was a minor thing.

For the next few days, she went about her activities in a fog, unable to really concentrate on anything. The tension and worry took a toll, and each evening she fell wearily into bed. But this night proved different than those that had preceded it. She had been sleeping several hours when, just before dawn, a loud knocking came at her door.

Sitting up, she called out, “Who is it?”

“My lady,” came the voice of a servant, “Gamling has asked me to wake you. The men have returned and your presence is requested.”

Lothiriel rose quickly and threw on a robe and slippers, then hurried to the door. The girl, Blidhe, had often sat and sewed with Lothiriel and she tried to give the lady a reassuring smile. “This way, my lady.” She gestured to her right and led the way down the hall, to an open door around the corner. 

Lothiriel knew it was one of the guestrooms and there was much bustle and excitement from within. After a moment, she realized the healer was there. That could only mean someone was injured, and she felt her throat tighten with fear. Edging into the room, she worked herself around people until she could see the man lying on the bed. Eothain! 

Tears sprang to her eyes as she pushed through to kneel at his side and clasp his hand. At the touch, his eyes flickered open and he gave her his usual lopsided grin. “Sorry to wake you so early!” he teased.

She tried to smile in return, but didn’t quite succeed. “What has happened?” she asked softly.

“Orc arrow got me in the leg. Must have had poison on it.” His eyes slipped closed, and she noticed the sheen of sweat on his face and neck.

Someone came up behind Lothiriel and caught her by the shoulders, pulling her to her feet. When she turned, it was to find Eomer studying her. For a moment, she let herself believe that he was going to tell her everything would be fine and Eothain was in no danger, but she could not mistake the look in his eyes.

Frantically her mind searched for something, anything, that could help him. Suddenly she gasped out, “Athelas!”

“What?” Eomer asked, surprised at her first choice of words.

“Athelas! We must find some – perhaps it will help draw the poison!” she explained.

Eomer glanced at the healers, but shook his head. “I know Aragorn used it to help my sister, but we do not know that remedy here. And we have none to try, even if we knew how to use it.”

“I know how!” she exclaimed. “Faramir told me about it last summer when I visited for the King’s wedding. He knew I would want to take the knowledge to the healers in Dol Amroth. I learned about it in the Houses of Healing – how to use it and where to find it. Please, Eomer!”

Eomer sighed and rubbed his face wearily, then nodded. “Go and get dressed. We can try.”

They were soon on their way with a small group. Knowing the plant was most frequently found in forested areas, she instructed Eomer to lead them to the nearest such place. By the time they reached it, the pale light of dawn made torches unnecessary. Even so, by midday their search had proven fruitless.

They ate a hasty meal, but when Lothiriel stood to resume the search, Eomer rose and caught her elbow, drawing her away from the men. “Lothiriel, I want to help Eothain as much as you do, but this is useless. You do not even know if this plant is to be found in Rohan. We would do better to go and be at Eothain’s side,” he gently petitioned her.

“And do what? Watch him lose his leg? Watch him die?” she snapped angrily, overcome with emotion, and jerking her arm out of his grasp.

The look on Eomer’s face made her regret her outburst; Eothain was probably his dearest friend. This was no easier for him than for Lothiriel.

Drawing a ragged breath, she said, “Please, let us look longer. I feel certain it grows here. We just have to find it.” Before he could argue, she added softly, “Would you want me to give up so easily if it was your leg? Your life?”

Eomer let out a long sigh, then cupped her neck with his hand and pressed his forehead to hers. They stood that way in silence for several seconds and then he murmured, “Keep looking. If you find nothing by sundown, we will return to Edoras.”

She reached up and gratefully touched his cheek. “Thank you!”

And the search continued. As the day began to draw to a close, Lothiriel’s efforts became more frenzied, and Eomer felt as bad as she did that she had failed. It would not be easy to see the repercussions to his friend. The other men with them, who had held out some hope in the morning, looked as dejected as Eomer felt. None wanted to see a good man lose his leg or his life. By the slant of Lothiriel’s shoulders, Eomer knew she was discouraged also, though she continued to ride slowly along with her eyes sweeping the ground carefully for the longed-for plant. He knew she was exhausted, and wished there was something he could do to help her, but he was certain she would not yield to reason until darkness made further searching impossible.

He was startled from his reverie by a squeal, and his head jerked up in surprise, uncertain for a moment what the sound meant. An instant later, Lothiriel almost fell off Bugan’s back in her haste to dismount. Laughing almost hysterically, she exclaimed, “This is it! I found it!” It took a moment to register her meaning, but when it hit, Eomer broke into a wide grin. Quickly he joined her, and they cut a large quantity of the plant, stuffing it into a sack Eomer held.

The ride back to Edoras was mostly a blur. All were focused on reaching their destination as quickly as possible, forgetting their weariness in the elation of the moment. Now all they could do was hope they were not too late.

The instant they arrived, some of the men took Eomer and Lothiriel’s horses, and the two rushed inside and hurried to Eothain’s room. The healer was there and looked up as they entered. Silently Lothiriel held out the sack questioningly, and a reassuring nod told her there was still time.

Immediately she began to make a poultice, as she directed them to uncover the wound and explained how she was preparing the plant. Within minutes, a new bandage had affixed the poultice in place, and all they could do was wait.

Lothiriel still wore her cloak, and Eomer stepped to her side. “Will you rest now? There is nothing more you can do here. Someone will get you if there is any change.”

She wavered a moment, then shook her head and plunked down in a chair she drew near the bed. “If there is any change, I want to be here.”

Realizing argument was futile, Eomer just nodded and turned to go. At the door, he instructed a servant to find a more comfortable chair for her and bring it there, and to prepare a supper tray for her as well.

It took nearly an entire day, but gradually Eothain’s fever broke and the healer declared the treatment a success. Eothain was weak, but alive, and he would keep his leg. Attending him became a part of Lothiriel’s daily routine, and she was so wrapped up in it that she was startled when Eomer appeared one day, bearing a letter from her father.

Her pleasure at receiving it was quickly dampened by the news it bore. Amrothos would lead a party of Swan Knights to Edoras at the first of May to escort her home. When she glanced up at Eomer, though he couldn’t know the letter’s contents, it was clear he had guessed the message.

“I am to go home around the first of May. Father is sending my brother to escort me.”

Neither knew what to say at that point, and an awkward silence ensued. Eothain watched them a moment, then offered, “Well, it is not the end of the world. We can still visit there and Lothiriel can visit here. We will still see each other after this.”

Lothiriel nodded lethargically. “You are right.” She raised her eyes and looked at each of them in turn. “But I will miss you both.”

_to be continued_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_"Aragorn was told by prophecy to be the king who would have the hands of great healing, but now you have elevated Lothiriel to such a level." – A reader of this story on fanfiction.net remarked on my inclusion of athelas in this story.  
>  Lothiriel's efforts on Eothain's behalf were only intended to show her great concern for her friend, and Eomer's appreciation of that. It was not my understanding that Aragorn alone could use athelas as a healing plant. According to the Encyclopedia of Arda website, which is pretty dead-on to what is in Tolkien's books, the plant had healing properties in and of itself, but that Aragorn, as a descendant of the royal line of Numenor had special ability to wield it. I think it is doubtful it would have been successfully used to overcome the Black Breath by just anyone; that required Aragorn's special ability. Therefore, I did not perceive Lothiriel's learning about the plant and its uses all that unusual. Ency. of Arda indicated that knowledge of the use of athelas had almost disappeared by the end of the Third Age, though presumably Aragorn's use of it brought it back to the attention of healers. (Athelas, An Elvish name for Kingsfoil - The plant also known as Kingsfoil or Asëa Aranion. Its leaves had healing properties, but by the end of the Third Age knowledge of its use was all but lost in Middle-earth.; Kingsfoil, The royal healing-leaf - A plant also called Athelas or Asëa Aranion. Its sweet-smelling leaves possessed healing virtues, especially in the hands of descendant of the royal line of Númenor.) (The Thain's Book website has more detailed information, though it suggests the medicinal property was as a pain killer, so the "draw the poison" aspect I used for it may only be movie-verse.) _ **


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Eomer stood gazing out the window of his study, lost in thought. When Eothain arrived at the door, which was standing open, he poked his head in and then moved to join his king. They stood side by side in silence, until Eothain ventured, “I rather miss Thiri, also.”

Eomer blinked in surprise at this unexpected comment. “Also?”

“I assume you miss her. The two of you seemed to get along well when she was here.” Lothiriel had been gone a little over a week now, and Eothain knew that Eomer had been restless and discontented ever since her departure, though he would not admit to a cause.

“Of course I miss her. Eowyn too. It is very quiet with neither of them around, and they were both of tremendous help to me in rebuilding Rohan. I will miss having someone to discuss solutions with – someone more rational and helpful than my advisers, that is.”

Eothain grinned at the complaint, then suggested, “Of course, you could go visit your sister. You have not seen her new home in Ithilien. And since it is so close to Dol Amroth, it would afford you the opportunity to take Imrahil and Lothiriel up on their offers to have you visit them.” He carefully kept his voice neutral, knowing Eomer would balk if he suspected an ulterior motive behind the suggestion.

It worked. Eomer rubbed his chin thoughtfully and nodded, “That is true. I have wished to see Eowyn’s home, and I have been remiss in not visiting Imrahil before this, despite numerous invitations. Oh, and I have not told you yet, but Eowyn is with child. It would be nice to go and share in her joy.”

Eothain restrained a grin as he listened to the king talking himself into this journey, but if that was what it took to get him back together with Lothiriel, then so be it. Eomer might fool himself about his feelings for the girl, but Eothain knew better. He had watched his friends for many months now, and there was no doubt in his mind that they were perfect for one another. Now all that remained was for them to acknowledge it and do something about it.

“I will speak to Gamling and see when we might work such travel into our schedule. In all, it would take at least a month,” Eomer observed.

Eothain nodded agreeably, and then pulled the king’s attention back to the reason for his presence. _Business now, pleasure later_ , he thought with amusement.

By the next day, tentative dates had been chosen and messengers sent to Eowyn and Imrahil to inquire if a visit at those times would work into their plans. It did not take long for either to respond back to him that they would be delighted to see him.

Within a fortnight, Eomer was on the road. The first stop was to be Ithilien and Eowyn’s home in Emyn Arnen. Faramir had come to love Ithilien while serving there as a Ranger, and now that he and Eowyn had been made Prince and Princess over it, they had chosen to build their primary residence there. They knew they would have to spend considerable time at Minas Tirith, in keeping with Faramir’s position as Steward of Gondor, but both preferred raising their children away from the city. Their home was begun before they were wed and the finishing touches had only recently been put on it.

Although he knew his sister was expecting a child, it was still something of a jolt to Eomer to see her rounded belly. Somehow he had never envisioned his sister as a mother. Not that he didn’t think she would be a good mother, but it just had not seemed part of her nature. Her love for Faramir, and the peace she found in him, had changed many things.

Despite her extra bulk, Eowyn greeted him warmly, thoroughly delighted to be reunited with her brother. Eagerly she began showing him the house, dragging him from room to room before he had even had a chance to settle into a guest room. He could not deny that the home was wonderful and its location amazing. The view from their front door was magnificent, and there was a large garden in the rear of the home. There was no scrimping on the stables either, and Eomer found them to his satisfaction, though sadly lacking in Rohirric horses. It seemed he would need to remedy that.

One of the best parts about this visit was that it got him away from advisers and council meetings, and out from behind a desk. He was heartily sick of paperwork and meetings, planning and organizing. It was good to ride again, out in the fresh air, and to focus on enjoying life rather than the worries of a kingdom. He knew the troubles at home were not gone, and he could not entirely ignore them, but he also knew that, for the moment, they were well in hand and there was nothing he needed to do.

He had planned to spend a fortnight with Eowyn and then travel on to Dol Amroth, but things took a sudden turn when a messenger arrived from Minas Tirith. Trouble had arisen along Ithilien’s border with Mordor, and Aragorn had sent for Faramir and Eomer. 

The trip to the White City was made quickly and Aragorn had soon outlined the difficulty and his planned course of action. Eomer had only brought a small escort party with him to visit his sister, so a messenger was sent to Edoras for Eothain to bring his eored at once. When these reinforcements had arrived, Aragorn led the army south to drive back this new threat to peace in Gondor.

In the end, it took more than two weeks to secure the area again, and by then Eomer felt obligated to spend his remaining time visiting with Eowyn. Reluctantly, he sent word to Dol Amroth of the change in plans and promised to visit another time.

The ride back to Rohan began on a dreary, grey, rainy day and Eomer’s mood matched the weather. While it had felt good to be doing something physical again, he resented the evil that still persisted in Middle-earth and required men to go to battle. But more than that, he resented that it had kept him from his planned visit to Dol Amroth. He had been looking forward to that visit more than he wanted to admit, and he was greatly disgruntled to be returning home without that pleasure.

Riding alongside him, Eothain was feeling equally frustrated. He had hoped this visit to Belfalas would make Eomer recognize his feelings for Lothiriel, and act upon them. The last few months before she returned home, Eothain had gotten the impression that perhaps Lothiriel had already come to understand she was attracted to the young king, though she hid her feelings well. But every now and then, he had caught a sidelong glance at Eomer, and Eothain felt certain that the look in her eyes was resignation.

Well, there was nothing to be done about it but find another way to bring them together. He would write to Lothiriel, suggesting something that might spark a reunion, and continue to work on Eomer in the interim. With Gamling’s assistance, they would make very certain Rohan’s king was unable to get the Lady Lothiriel out of his thoughts!

Less than a week after they had returned home, Eothain received a letter from the lady in question, expressing disappointment at missing Eomer’s visit, and that Eothain had come so close to her home as well without stopping by. When she began telling of her efforts to continue to ride almost every day, and how she should probably buy her own horse, he seized the opportunity to write back and suggest that the best place to acquire a horse was in Rohan.

When he mentioned their correspondence to Eomer, the king readily acknowledged that he wanted to send some horses to Eowyn for her stables. Thus a plan was hatched that perhaps Imrahil would bring his daughter for a visit to buy a horse, and see several horses delivered to Eowyn on the return trip.

Once again, after Imrahil agreed to this plan, Eomer was in a much better humor at the prospect of seeing the lady. But once more fate was against them, and the planned excursion fell victim to problems Imrahil was facing at home.

Gamling finally came up with a solution – Eowyn was due to deliver in early October. Without the king’s asking, he cleared another month on the monarch’s schedule and suggested he visit Dol Amroth on his way to Emyn Arnen for the birth. With the Dimholt now passable, the journey could be made quickly, and if the baby came early he would be near enough to reach his sister in only a few days.

And so plans were set in place yet again, and agreed upon by Imrahil and Eowyn. Thus it was that Eomer found himself on the road back to Gondor in mid-September.

In the time since Lothiriel had left Edoras, Eomer had written a few letters to her. He was not much for letter writing, and he felt awkward trying to put words on paper, but he wanted to keep in contact with her and didn’t think he could expect her to write to him if he did not answer.

But somehow the letters did not quite satisfy. He preferred talking to Lothiriel, looking her in the eye, sitting beside her, being with her. Letters felt cold and impersonal, no matter what was written in them, and he was eager to see her again. She had expressed a great enthusiasm for showing him her home, in her earlier letters, though she had not mentioned it so much of late. In fact, it seemed the tone of her letters had changed recently, though he could not quite put his finger on what was different about them. She appeared to be...less eager...about everything, and he wondered why.

Well, he would see her soon and possibly then would find some answers. By the time they had passed through the mountain and reached the Stone of Erech, Eomer’s anticipation was growing unbearable. They made their way along the road leading to Pelargir, but swung south along a trail that followed the River Ringlo to the sea.

They camped on a cliff overlooking the Bay of Belfalas the night before reaching Dol Amroth, and Eomer got a good look at the sea that was so beloved of Lothiriel. She had spoken of it many times, and he could see the wild beauty she had described. 

He supposed that his excitement about seeing Lothiriel again was what led to his dreaming of her that night, and he was annoyed when he was awakened at dawn just when the dream had been getting good. With the light of day, he couldn’t quite remember the details of the dream, only that it was pleasant and he had not wanted it to end.

The riders had soon broken camp and set out on the final leg of their journey. They had glimpses of the sea off and on throughout the day, depending on how far out of the trees the trail led them. Shortly after their midday meal, Dol Amroth came into sight on the horizon. Like Minas Tirith, it was largely built from white stone and it glimmered in the autumn sunlight.

Within a few hours, they were riding up the road leading to the royal palace. Imrahil and his eldest son, Elphir, came out to greet them and see them settled into quarters for their stay. Once Eomer had washed and removed his armor, he joined Imrahil in his study.

“Eomer,” Imrahil beamed, “it is good to see you again! You look well. Things are becoming more manageable in Rohan, I take it?”

“They are, but slowly. We still face many problems, but your daughter left quite a legacy behind her. With her help we have made great progress, and I hope we will pass this winter much easier than the last.” Eomer paused, then asked the question foremost in his mind. “Where is she, by the way? I rather expected she would be there to greet us.”

Imrahil shrugged apologetically. “I am sure she wished to be, but she had a visitor come to call shortly before you arrived and that pulled her away. But you will see her at supper, no doubt. She has been looking forward to your visit, though she tells me she is quite upset with you for not bringing her friend Eothain along on this trip.”

Eomer let out a laugh. “Yes, Eothain is disgruntled about that also! They became great friends while she was with us.”

Changing subjects, Imrahil asked, “So, now that you have seen the sea, what do you think of it?”

“I have really only seen glimpses of it, but it is indeed impressive. I can understand Lothiriel’s fondness for it.”

Rising, Imrahil led the way out onto the balcony off his study, and he and Eomer stood gazing over the city below. This location afforded an excellent view of the harbor also, and the sea wall that ran along the border of the city and past them some distance. 

As Eomer surveyed the landscape, he caught a glimpse of a man and woman standing along the seawall, not too far from the palace. After a moment, he said, “Is not that Lothiriel?”

Imrahil turned in the direction he indicated and nodded. “Yes.”

“Who is that with her? One of your sons?” Eomer inquired curiously, not really thinking the man’s build matched Imrahil’s sons. It must be the visitor Imrahil has mentioned.

“No, that is Lord Dorlion of Edhellond. He is in the city on business, though considering the amount of time he has been spending with Lothiriel, I rather suspect _she_ is part of the business that brings him here! I would not be very surprised if he made an offer for her hand within the week. And, unlike the other suitors she has had, I think she might accept him.”

Imrahil fell into a pensive silence, and Eomer was unprepared for the piercing pain that stabbed at his heart at this news. He should be happy for Lothiriel, that she had found someone she could love – he _was_ happy for her...wasn’t he? So why could he not bear the thought of her accepting this man? Was he so selfish that he wished her to remain alone so she would be free to visit Rohan and assist him whenever he needed it? He had intended to invite her to make another visit, while he was here counseling with her father, but if she accepted Lord Dorlion’s offer, it was unlikely she would wish to make the journey north. 

Eomer shoved aside his disturbing thoughts. He would not begrudge her happiness, no matter what. But still something nagged at him, urging him to interfere and drive them apart. _This is ridiculous! I do not even know the man!_ he told himself, but he was little appeased by the argument.

Below them, the couple had looked up and spotted them. Apparently Lothiriel recognized them, for she waved and immediately headed to join them, with Lord Dorlion accompanying her.

Imrahil had noticed and grinned. “Come, you can greet Lothiriel and meet Lord Dorlion. He is a fine man. I am sure you will like him.”

Eomer doubted very much that he would ever like Dorlion, but he gave a forced smile and followed his host indoors. By the time they reached the entry hall, Lothiriel and Dorlion were just entering. For a fleeting moment, Eomer almost got the impression that Lothiriel was going to fling herself in his arms and hug him. But almost as quickly, she seemed to recover herself and merely extended her hand to him. “Eomer King, it is so very good to see you again!”

As Eomer moved to kiss her hand, he felt a twinge of disappointment. A hug would have been very nice indeed, but surely he had imagined her intent. She had never hugged him before. It was unlikely she would suddenly start doing so now.

Lord Dorlion was introduced, and Eomer could not deny that he was a man of culture and refinement. From what Imrahil said, he was also brave, and had fought defending the shoreline and harbor cities during the War of the Ring. And, what was worse, the man was even rather handsome. In short, there was nothing Eomer could find fault with, and still he despised him. He tried mightily to disguise his feelings, but the way Dorlion’s eyes narrowed suggested he sensed some hostility in Rohan’s king.

As Dorlion would be joining them for supper that night, he excused himself and went to see to various matters of business before mealtime. When he was gone, Lothiriel looked at Eomer and her father, somewhat eagerly it seemed, and asked, “Are the two of you involved in something, or is there time for me to catch up on all the news of Edoras with Eomer?”

“By all means, go and hear your gossip!” her father urged. “I have some dispatches I wanted to finish before supper, and I shall not feel guilty abandoning Eomer if you are seeing to his needs.” 

He strode away and the two stood awkwardly together, until Lothiriel suggested, “Let us go in the library where it is quiet.” She gestured off to their left and they moved in that direction.

Once there, she stepped over to a small refreshment counter and offered, “Would you like some wine?”

Finally finding his voice, Eomer told her, “Yes, please.” He could not imagine why he was so tongue-tied with her all of a sudden. They had always been easy friends.

Almost as if she sensed his uncertainty, she started the conversation as she took a seat on a low sofa. “So, tell me what has been happening in Edoras since last I was there? I want to hear everything!”

Hesitantly, he sat beside her, slowly turning the goblet of wine she had given him, and tried to think what to tell her. Eventually he began a recitation of the state of the nation that almost sounded like a report from one of his advisers, and she broke into laughter, causing him to blush. “Eomer! Do not tell me all those boring details of little consequence; tell me of the people! How are Eothain and Gamling, and...everyone?”

With a little more warmth and animation, he told how each of the people she had known was faring, and she related what had been happening in Dol Amroth and Minas Tirith that might interest him. Too soon, the time had passed and a servant came to inform them supper would be served in half an hour. Both rose to go and prepare, and Eomer got the distinct impression that each of them wanted to say more but held back. Then she led the way out of the library, and whatever moment he had sensed was gone.

Normally, Eomer took little notice of his appearance but, for some reason, tonight he wanted to look his best. He took extra care combing and tying back his hair, and dressing in one of his finest tunics. Eowyn claimed this particular one brought out the green of his hazel eyes, and he always got many compliments from the ladies when he wore it. Almost as an afterthought, he trimmed his beard, which had become unkempt of late.

Before he stepped out the door of his chamber, he paused with his hand on the latch and let out a heavy sigh. He was among friends here, and yet he felt unsure of himself. Why did he feel the need to impress anyone? This would only be a small gathering and he should have been pleasantly relaxed in this setting, but he was not. With a jolt, he realized it almost felt like it used to when he was about to go into battle. Yet, there was no danger to be faced here. He shook his head roughly and moved firmly out the door. This was nonsense and he would not give into it.

When Eomer reached the dining hall, most everyone else was already gathered, with the exception of Amrothos who had trailed in right behind him. Dorlion stood near Lothiriel and as Imrahil indicated they should be seated, Dorlion was immediately helping with her chair. Eomer had never seen Lothiriel blush to any appreciable extent, but a faint color touched her cheeks and she almost appeared embarrassed by Dorlion’s attentiveness.

Erchirion had caught Eomer’s arm and pulled him around the table to be seated there, so Eomer ended up across from Lothiriel rather than next to her, and a couple of places down from her. Dorlion settled himself at her side, and Eomer forced himself to unclench his jaw and keep smiling.

Eomer was not aware of most of what transpired during the meal. He was extremely conscious of Dorlion’s steady conversation with Lothiriel, often leaning closer to her as they chatted. He was too far away to hear much of what they said, particularly since Erchirion kept plying him with questions and expounding on various matters that did not hold Eomer’s interest.

When supper finally concluded, and all sat around talking over a last goblet of wine, Lord Dorlion rose and invited, “Lothiriel, would you honor me with a turn in the garden? It is a fine evening.”

Lothiriel glanced quickly around the table, seeming hesitant, but her father urged, “Go ahead, dearest. We do not mind.” With no excuse to refuse, she rose and took Dorlion’s arm and they were soon gone from the room.

For the next half hour, Eomer tried valiantly to carry on an intelligent conversation with his Dol Amroth friends, but his attention kept wandering to the absent member of their family. He wanted nothing more than to follow Lothiriel and interrupt whatever Dorlion had planned on this ‘walk’ of his, but there was no escape that presented itself. At length, Imrahil noticed his flagging attention and commented, “I believe we have kept you up long enough, Eomer. You must surely be weary from your travel.”

Seizing the excuse, Eomer stood. “I do apologize. I am sure a night’s rest will be just what I need.” Goodnights were said and Eomer hastily retreated, sorry that he had no reason to go through the garden to get to his chambers.

_to be continued_


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally...

**Chapter 11**

A peaceful sleep was not to be had this night. Once in his chambers, Eomer paced like a caged animal. He mulled over all that had transpired and could not identify any reason to dislike Lord Dorlion or be acting in this disagreeable manner, but neither could he shake it off. He forced himself to change into his nightclothes and lie down on the bed, but it was immediately clear that slumber was far from him. He tossed and turned for many hours, until in the wee hours of the morning fatigue granted him a light, dreaming sleep. But that, too, proved unsettling, for several disjointed dreams presented themselves, all of which had Lothiriel in them and all of which had her marrying another man.

The last one was so real, he woke with a gasp and sat breathing heavily, with his heart pounding. As he calmed, he let out a moan and rubbed his face, wondering what was wrong with him, and then, almost as if he heard a voice in the room, came the words _‘you’re in love with her’_.

A mental image came forcibly back to him of their playing in the snow, and he vividly recalled sitting on top of her and staring down into her eyes. He had felt something then, but pushed it aside when it occurred to him how wrong it was to be sitting on top of Imrahil’s daughter, and battling an almost overwhelming desire to kiss her. He had used reason to avoid considering the implications of that brief lapse, but now it was clear that occasion had not been a fluke.

Sitting there in the dark, the longer he considered this the more he was forced to acknowledge that it was true. When or where it had happened, he did not know, but Lothiriel had crept into his heart so completely he felt as though he would suffocate if she were to be with anyone else.

Realizing that truth, however, was not reassuring or calming. She had never given indication of any particular favor towards him. True, they were good friends, and had shared much that was quite personal, but that did not denote love. The same could be said of his sister. One thing was clear to him, though. He had to make his feelings known to Lothiriel before she accepted Dorlion’s offer. If he kept silent and she accepted the other man’s proposal, Eomer would lose her forever. She was much too honorable to back out once she had promised, even if she was so inclined.

Laying back against the pillows, he tried to relax and get a little rest before dawn. There was no time to lose. He would have to speak with Lothiriel first thing in the morning.

xxxxx

Eomer’s annoyance was boundless. He hadn’t slept all night, so naturally he fell asleep as dawn approached even though he had wanted to rise early. When he was still asleep, Imrahil had graciously instructed the servants not to disturb him, thinking it exhaustion from the travel, and now he found it was already mid-morning. The servants were attempting to get him to take a leisurely bath and eat in his room, since the household had finished their meal in his absence, but he wanted to waste no more time in getting to Lothiriel and speaking with her.

Hurrying down the stairs, still tying the laces on his tunic, he almost ran into the very person he sought when she came out of the library just as he was passing. He skidded to a halt, giving her a relieved smile.

Teasingly, she told him, “You need not hurry, Eomer. We will still feed you, even this late in the morning!”

He laughed lightly and admitted, “I was looking for you. I was afraid I might have missed you, that you might have gone out already.” He left unsaid that he was afraid she was with Dorlion.

She just smiled up at him and answered, “Of course not. You are just arrived and you have not seen my city. I thought perhaps you might like me to show you around. Or, if you prefer, since I might be too busy, I could try to find some pleasant girl to show you around, one who could be trusted not to behave in an unseemly fashion with a king....” 

She winked at him, and he suddenly recognized the jest she was making and blushed. “In all fairness, I was not trying to get out of spending time with you. I truly was afraid my duties would keep me too busy for you to have an enjoyable time if you had to wait on me.”

“I know,” she assured him. Clasping her hands in front of her, she asked, “So, would you like me as your guide?”

“Of course! I could not hope for better!” he quickly affirmed, thinking how conveniently she was playing into his plans.

“Have you eaten anything, or shall we sneak something from the kitchen for you?” she asked.

His stomach growled at that moment and he grinned ruefully. “Does that answer your question?”

With a laugh, she caught his arm and steered him in the right direction. “Yes, that is a rather plain answer!”

They were soon on their way to walk about the city, while Eomer quickly ate the bread, cheese and fruit they had procured. She seemed to realize the shops would hold little of his interest, and focused instead on the battlements, and ways in which Dol Amroth differed from his own city. He expressed his interest in seeing the sea more closely, so she began with a visit to the wharfs and let him see the commerce side of the coast first. Then she led him off down the strand and onto the beach.

They had removed their shoes and were strolling in silence, and Eomer tried to think of a way to bring up the troubling subject niggling at his mind. Finally, he observed, “Lord Dorlion seems fond of you. Your father indicated he may offer for your hand, and he thought you might accept.” He held his breath, awaiting her response.

She did not look at him, but fixed her eyes on the path before her. She did not want to have this conversation with him. It was too painful to receive his congratulations instead of his love. Reluctantly, she answered, “Yes, I believe he will offer. He is a good man and would treat me well. I think I would accept if he does offer.”

Eomer’s heart stopped. “Do you love him?” he asked fearfully.

They walked several yards before she answered. _Why must he torment her with these questions?_ She had looked forward to his visit, but now she wanted to be very far away from him. Stiffly she responded, “No, but I could tolerate him reasonably well, and he has much to recommend him. I am unlikely to receive a better offer from anyone more agreeable.”

“Lothiriel...do not do this! You deserve better than to settle for a good man, but without love. You deserve someone to love you passionately! Can you not–”

“Eomer,” she interrupted firmly, unwilling to hear his pity for her, “I know what I said in Edoras. I even meant it, about wanting to marry for love, but life does not always go as we hope it will. I grow weary of a life that has no purpose or meaning. At least as the wife of a nobleman, I could have children to care for and rear. That could fill my heart with the love I might be missing in my union. I am tired of waiting for something that may never happen. There are no suitors for my hand who have expressed a love for me, passionate or otherwise. It would be foolish of me to refuse Lord Dorlion in hopes that such might eventually come along.” 

She tried not to let him see her brush away a tear, attempting to disguise it by pushing a few strands of hair from her face. But he was not fooled and caught her elbow, pulling her to a stop and turning her to face him. _Where was Faramir when he needed him to provide the flowery, romantic words to speak that would win her heart?_ At last he blurted out, more bluntly than he intended, “There would be such a suitor, if you will allow it!”

It took a moment for his words to register but, when they did, she could not repress a lurching sensation in her stomach. _Dare she hope…_ For the first time, she raised her eyes to his, questioningly. “What?”

He stared at her, overcome with emotion and trepidation. _What if she did not love him, and could not love him? What if she did not want him?_ Exhaling sharply, he said softly, “I am in love with you, Thiri. I know you have never thought of me in that way before, but perhaps in time you could come to care for me. You would make a wonderful queen for Rohan but, more importantly, you would make a wonderful wife for me.” He stumbled to a stop, not sure what else to say and rather convinced his words had done more harm than good in persuading her.

She was gazing at him with a bewildered expression, still trying to take in what he had told her. “You...you are in love with me?” she stammered at last.

He nodded sheepishly. “I did not realize it until I came here and saw you with Lord Dorlion. I could not bear the thought of you being with him. I know I have done a poor job of presenting myself to you, but hopefully....” He stopped, uncertain what to say more, and waited for a response.

She continued to stare into his eyes, almost as if she was trying to read his mind, and he watched her with bated breath. Suddenly, she stepped in close and reached a hand up to his cheek. She lightly stroked it for an instant, and then stood on tiptoe to reach up and press her lips to his. For a moment, he was too startled to react, but then a slow, hesitant grin spread over his face. Reaching for her, he pulled her up against him and leaned down to kiss her properly. As he became lost in her arms, everything around them disappeared and he knew this was the most ‘right’ thing he had ever done in his life.

As they broke apart, she whispered, “I could not come to care for you any more than I already do, Eomer. I have known for some time that I loved you, but I thought it unlikely my feelings would ever be returned by you.” 

Tears of joy trickled from her eyes, and he tenderly kissed them away. Then he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and resting his cheek on her head. “How foolish we have been! We have been searching Middle-earth for someone for the other person to marry, and all that time the right person was us.”

xxxxx

“Prince Imrahil, thank you for seeing me. I trust you are well,” Lord Dorlion said, bowing smartly.

“I am, thank you. What can I do for you today, my friend?” Imrahil inquired, despite his suspicion that he already knew the answer.

“I will get straight to the point. I am sure it will come as no surprise to you that I have become quite fond of your daughter. I wish to apply for her hand in marriage.”

Imrahil nodded with a barely concealed, knowing smile. “That does not surprise me. However, it will of course be Lothiriel’s decision. I will make your intent known to her and see what her feelings are in the matter. Will you join us for supper tonight? Perhaps I will be able to give you an answer then, if she makes a decision quickly.”

“Sadly, no, I am unable to make supper as I have a prior engagement. But I could stop by tomorrow at midday, or word could be sent when you have something to tell me. I would not want Lothiriel to think I was pressuring her to answer swiftly if she needs time to consider the offer.”

“I will send word when something has been decided. I am sure Lothiriel will appreciate your consideration of her. And she is somewhat distracted with Eomer visiting. She is out showing him around Dol Amroth today.”

Lord Dorlion hid his frown as to Lothiriel’s whereabouts. He wasn’t quite sure about Rohan’s king, but the man did not look on him with a friendly eye. Though neither Eomer nor Lothiriel had given any indication that they favored one another, he got the distinct impression the man might be jealous of Dorlion’s time spent with the young lady. He suppressed a sigh. Either way, Lothiriel would accept or reject him. If it was the former, the king would just have to deal with any unexpressed feelings he might have. 

He rose and bowed. “I thank you for your time. I will await word.”

When he was gone, Imrahil sat back in his chair and gazed out the window. He hadn’t been surprised at the offer, but still he was disappointed by it. Dorlion was a good man and would make a good husband for Lothiriel. While Edhellond was not close, it was not that far from Dol Amroth so he could be assured of seeing his daughter regularly. And yet.... 

With a sigh, he rubbed his forehead. It was foolish to have done so, but he had rather hoped Lothiriel and Eomer would be drawn to one another. True, it would mean her living much farther away, but he liked the young king a great deal and felt he had much to offer his daughter. And he had no doubt that Lothiriel would be a remarkable queen. She had the intelligence and common sense that would serve her and Rohan well, particularly as they rebuilt after the devastation of the war. Eomer had already been glowing in his appreciation of her assistance last fall and through the winter months, but neither seemed inclined toward the other in a romantic way. Still, Imrahil was not at all certain that his daughter loved Dorlion – if she was to marry without love, why not Eomer? He needed a good wife and the two were quite friendly.

He sighed again. That was not a decision for him to make, and to suggest it would likely only embarrass his daughter. No, he would have to pass along Dorlion’s offer and leave the choice in Lothiriel’s capable hands.

xxxxx

It was nearly suppertime before Eomer and Lothiriel returned from their walk around town. With a grin at one another, each hurried off to their room, separating at the head of the stairs.

In the foyer below, Imrahil came out of his study and asked the servant nearby, “Did I hear my daughter come in?”

“Yes, my lord. She has gone to dress for supper. King Eomer was with her.”

Imrahil nodded. “Thank you.” For a moment, he pondered what to do. Should he speak to Lothiriel before supper, or wait until afterwards? Straightening, he headed up the stairs. Perhaps now would be a good time. She could consider the offer over supper, and maybe it would press her to look at Eomer with new eyes. Besides, after supper it was likely they would get wrapped up in conversation and no opportunity would present itself to speak with her privately.

A knock at Lothiriel’s door brought an unexpected result. It was quickly opened by his flushed, bright-eyed daughter and for a moment all he could do was stare at her. “Lothiriel? Are you well?” She did not look ill, but he was at a loss to understand the expression on her face.

To his surprise, she flung her arms around his neck. “I am very well, Father!” Moving her arms to around his waist, and hugging him tightly, she danced him around the room. “I am very well, indeed!”

Laughing, he allowed her to guide him around a few moments, before pulling her to a stop. “What in the world has gotten into you?” he exclaimed. “I have not seen you this elated in a very long time!”

“Love, Father! I am in love and, what is even better, he loves me also!” Breaking free from his grip, she twirled several times around the room and then flopped onto her back on the bed, in a most unladylike manner.

Imrahil struggled to grasp what was happening. Who could have filled her with such joy? Could she have learned about Dorlion’s offer? Perhaps they had met in the street and he made an offer in person? But, she had returned with Eomer, so it seemed unlikely Dorlion would have proposed in front of the king. Dare he hope....

“Lothiriel, if you can bring your head out of the clouds for just a brief moment, might I inquire with whom you are in love?” He sat down next to her on the bed.

Giggling she turned on her side and raised her head up on her bent arm to grin at him. “Need you ask? With whom have I just spent all day?” He noticed the teasing twinkle in her eyes.

“Eomer?” he asked carefully, not trusting the guess but unable to think of anyone else.

“Of course!” She sat up and embraced him again. “Oh, Father! I am so very happy! I think he will ask your permission tonight, after supper. Do be kind to him! I know it will be hard for us, with me living so far away, but I love him dearly, Father. I want very much to be his wife!”

For a moment, Imrahil just held his daughter, then tentatively said, “Then I suppose that answers the question about your other suitor.”

She pulled back to look at him questioningly, and then understanding dawned. “Lord Dorlion spoke to you.”

“Yes. This afternoon.”

“Are...are you disappointed by my choice?” she asked quietly.

Smiling, he put both hands on her shoulders. “Of course not! Eomer is a fine man, and to tell you the truth, I had rather hoped the two of you would grow close. When it did not seem to have happened, I thought you might be willing to consider Dorlion. I see I was mistaken about your regard for Rohan’s king, and his for you!”

She shook her head. “No, Father, you were not mistaken. I confess I have loved Eomer for some time, since before I returned from Rohan. But when he showed no similar interest in me, I did not think anything would come of it. It is only this visit that he has realized his feelings for me and expressed them. In a way, we have Lord Dorlion to thank for that. In his jealousy over the attention paid me by another man, Eomer finally saw that he felt more than friendship.”

“Then I am very happy for you, my dear. I will send an answer to Lord Dorlion first thing and not keep him in suspense over the matter. It is best he know as soon as possible where your heart lies.”

Rising he reached for her hand. “And, now, if you are ready, I believe we are keeping our guest waiting.”

Hastily she stood and resmoothed her hair and dress. “I am ready!” She caught his arm and urged him toward the door with undeniable eagerness.

Before they left her room, Imrahil turned to her and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Oh, my dearest girl, I am so pleased to see such happiness come to you!”

_to be continued_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some readers care more than others as to 'historical' accuracy, so for those that do, I made this response to someone with regard to this chapter:
> 
> _"I'm thinking that "proper kisses" between Lothíriel and Éomer before the official courting time seem somewhat.. out of line." – in a strict historical sense, probably so. The question becomes, though, just how strictly Tolkien was matching his "world" to actual history. Certainly there were two marriages among nobles (Aragorn/Arwen, Faramir/Eowyn) that we KNOW were not arranged marriages, and there seems to have been no objection by anyone to them marrying the person they loved. That, to me, opens up the possibility that other facets of Medieval society were not strictly adhered to either (thus making Faramir's kiss of Eowyn on the wall a bit less scandalous). I do, however, think they probably kept an eye on propriety and behaving in a seemly fashion, and that it would have been frowned upon for the nobility, particularly royal women, to be less than virgins when they married. My take is that I want to stay fairly close to accurate on historical details (if they even apply), but take a certain license to allow for a bit more romantic story. Longing glances across the room, a chaste kiss at the altar and then a wedding night that ends the story would leave you wondering if they truly loved each other, and how the other person knew. The words, the kisses, the embraces help to involve you in the romance, so they are included, but I omit details of any sexual intimacy after marriage because, to me, that tips into the category of voyeurism. I tell you enough for you to know they love each other deeply and as a married couple they do the things that married couples do._


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

It was clear during supper, that although Eomer and Lothiriel had reached an agreement, they did not intend to publicly announce anything until Eomer had formally spoken to Imrahil. With the way the two were beaming at one another and laughing together throughout the meal, it was beyond Imrahil to understand why none of his sons seemed to suspect a thing.

Once supper was ended, Eomer wasted no time in seeking an audience with Imrahil, and Lothiriel joined them in her father’s study. Coming straight to the point, Eomer explained, “My friend, I seek your permission to court and marry your daughter. We have developed feelings for one another and she has agreed to be my wife.” 

He stood nervously before the Prince, almost at attention, and Imrahil suppressed his amusement that the young king struck him as a wayward boy awaiting punishment for some misdeed.

With a smile, he answered warmly, “If my daughter has accepted you, then I will not dispute the matter. I know you to be a fine and honorable man. I would be delighted to call you my son.”

Eomer let out a relieved breath and grinned at Lothiriel, reaching for her hand.

Imrahil stood and moved around his desk to sit on the front of it, facing the couple. “You may trothplight here while you are visiting and then we can travel to Edoras for the announcement, if you like. The usual courtship period is one…”

“Father,” Lothiriel interrupted, knowing what he was about to say, “as I am marrying the king of Rohan, and will be queen of that land, is it not appropriate that I follow Rohan’s customs and traditions rather than Gondor’s?”

Imrahil’s eyebrow twitched up in surprise. Still, he could not deny she made a valid argument. “And what exactly would be the Eorlinga custom of marriage, if I may ask?”

Eomer had not expected this turn of events, but cleared his throat. “It is the usual practice to announce the betrothal, with the wedding to occur a week later.”

“A week!” Imrahil exclaimed. “You cannot be serious!”

“Father, things are done differently in Rohan. They do not have the leisure to take copious amounts of time for everything, as we seem to do in Gondor,” Lothiriel soothed. She thought for a moment, then added, “Under the circumstances, I believe we would need to slightly modify the Rohirric custom. Now that Middle-earth is reunited, I am confident that nobles of Gondor will wish to attend Eomer’s wedding, so time must be allowed to send announcements. Perhaps we could trothplight here in Dol Amroth, send announcements fixing a date for the wedding one month later, and then travel to Edoras to observe the formalities there while we await the visitors.”

Imrahil’s eyes narrowed. “You have thought this matter through rather thoroughly, Thiri. Particularly since you said you and Eomer only came to an understanding this afternoon.”

Lothiriel blushed slightly, looking guilty. Finally, she confessed, “Though I did not think my affections were returned by Eomer, I could not resist thinking about what it might be like if they were. I learned the Eorlinga customs on the matter, and considered our particular situation and determined what would need to happen.” Glancing down at her feet, she murmured, “But in the last couple of months, I have not given the matter much thought as I assumed it to be a hopeless cause.”

Eomer squeezed her hand reassuringly, and then raised it to kiss the back of it. “I am sorry, my love, to have caused you such distress. I was slow to realize my feelings for you, but I assure you that I will never be slow to constantly remind you of them the rest of your days.”

Lothiriel swallowed hard, trying to choke back tears at his words, and Imrahil smiled with pleasure. _Yes, they would be very good for each other, indeed!_

“Very well,” Imrahil announced, “we will follow the plan Lothiriel has outlined. You may trothplight tomorrow and we will send out the invitations immediately.”

Knowing her brothers would never forgive her if they found out about this just as everyone else did, the three were summoned and the joyous news shared with them. They were stunned, to say the least, not having suspected such a thing, but delighted by it since they liked Eomer so well. Amrothos was the least enthusiastic about this revelation, but seemed resigned to it. 

Each of them had embraced their sister and wished her well. When it was Amrothos’ turn, he pulled her close, clinging fiercely to her. After a moment, she pulled back to look in his eyes, an unasked question passing to him. With a sigh, he gave her a sad smile and said, “I think perhaps I knew it would come to this. You were showing far too much interest in Rohan at Faramir’s wedding, though I confess I rather thought you had your eye on that soldier, Eothain, instead of the king!”

She gave an amused laugh. “Little wonder you were so evil to him, then! He is a dear friend, but he has never held my affections.” She paused, then told him with suppressed laughter, “Which is a good thing, as it happens! I did promise you not to fall in love with a Rohirric soldier, but I said nothing about falling in love with a soldier turned king!”

They hugged again as they laughed, and he whispered, “Perhaps I ought to seek a wife in Rohan, so I may live nearby!”

She smiled into his shoulder. “I do not think the ladies of Edoras would object one bit to being courted by my handsome brother!”

xxxxx

Even though Eomer and Lothiriel had stayed up late, talking and kissing in the garden, Lothiriel was up at first light, too excited about the events of the day to lie abed.

As she descended the stairs to the morning meal, she was joined by Eomer, who wrapped her hand in his and pulled her close for a quick kiss. “Good morning,” he murmured against her lips.

“It is now!” she replied, grinning.

Laughing together, they continued on to the dining hall where the remainder of her family was already gathered. Imrahil had arranged for the trothplighting to take place on the steps of the palace at mid-morning, and messengers had been sent to announce it throughout the city.

At the allotted time, a considerable crowd of well-wishers had taken up position in the plaza. Eomer glanced at Lothiriel, who, to his surprise, looked uneasy. “You are nervous?” he asked.

She shrugged. “A little. It is not every day a girl agrees to marry a king!” When he continued to gaze at her questioningly, she gently added, “It is nothing, my love. I am only nervous about observing the formalities, not about marrying you.”

He smiled with relief and gave her a tender kiss, and she welcomed the reassurance of it. A moment later, they were signaled out onto the terrace to join Imrahil. The Prince led them through the official wording of the trothplight and the crowd cheered their approval when it was ended. Eomer seized the opportunity to again kiss Lothiriel, much to the delight of the audience. 

While everyone was milling about, talking excitedly about this good news, there came a commotion from the gates. It took a few moments for the disruption to be noticed by the Prince’s family and Eomer, but they looked up as the crowd began to part, allowing several men on horseback to ride forward.

Eomer blinked in confusion at the sight of Eothain. His marshal should be in Edoras; what in the world was he doing here?

Coming to a halt, Eothain inclined his head respectfully to his king and the prince. “My lords, please pardon the interruption to your festivities. It seems I came on one errand and now it has taken a turn.”

Everyone was looking rather puzzled by his cryptic remarks, and Eomer voiced their question. “Eothain, what is the meaning of this? Why are you here?”

Dismounting, he waved another rider forward, leading a dappled grey mare. Taking the lead rope, Eothain moved to the bottom of the steps, and bowed, then grinned. “I thought the king might like to gift the Lady Lothiriel with a horse, but now it would appear he may offer this animal as a wedding gift to his bride!”

Lothiriel gasped, then released Eomer’s hand and hurried down the steps to meet the mare who watched her with languid eyes. “She is beautiful, Eothain! Thank you!”

“ ‘Tis not from me, my lady, but the king…even if he did not know it until now!” Eothain teased.

Eomer descended the steps slowly, his eyes narrowed at his friend. Quietly he muttered, “I will talk to _you_ later!” He moved to examine the horse Eothain had chosen and, upon closer look, recognized her. “Anlicferth?”

Eothain nodded. “A sister to your Firefoot. A good choice, would you not agree?” There was nothing apologetic in his manner, Eomer noticed, turning slowly back to the mare.

To Lothiriel, Eomer commented, “It is indeed fitting that she should belong to you, my love, if you would like to have her.”

“Of course! She is wonderful!” Lothiriel exclaimed, as the mare nuzzled at her dress, looking for treats. Casting a glance between Eothain and Eomer, she tried unsuccessfully to solemnly tell Eomer, “I thank you, my lord, for your generosity in this gift!” Unable to restrain herself, she broke into giggles, and she could tell both men were struggling not to join her. Eventually, they both cracked grins and Lothiriel was assured there was no ill feeling in the matter.

Erchirion came forward then and offered, “I will show these men to the stables to see their horses settled in, and then get them situated in quarters for the duration of their visit.”

The crowd had slowly begun to disperse as well, quickly losing interest in the gifted horse, and drifted back to their homes or work. Imrahil and Elphir headed back inside to get the invitations begun and on their way, leaving Eomer and Lothiriel in the plaza. Before Eothain could escape, Eomer told him, “A word, with you, Marshal, if you please.”

Amrothos appeared at Lothiriel’s side and, noticing the looks between the two men, suggested to his sister, “Come and show me this new horse of yours, Thiri. Who would have thought _you_ would become such an avid horsewoman!” The two walked off arm in arm, and Eomer promised to join them in the stables in a few moments.

He turned to Eothain, once they were gone. “Why is it, my friend, that you do not seem particularly surprised by my betrothal to Lothiriel?” Eomer inquired.

Eothain burst into laughter. “You must be jesting, Eomer! _You_ were the only one who could not see the obvious. I have been watching you with Lothiriel for quite some time and could tell you were drawn to her. What was less clear was whether she returned your interest. When she remained longer in Rohan and I saw the two of you in a snowball fight, it was clear that the lady did indeed feel similarly. Gamling and I could not believe it when you let her leave Edoras without a betrothal in place or the promise of such to come. We have long had something of a wager as to how long it would take you to wake up and make Lothiriel your queen!”

Eomer flushed red with embarrassment. “Was it that plain?” he muttered. “Why did you never say anything?”

“Would you have listened?” Eothain replied, then answered his own question. “Of course not. If we had done anything to push you toward her, you would have turned tail and run. No, we had to let you get there on your own, as painful as it was to watch you be so slow!”

Eomer glared at him menacingly. “ A fine friend you turned out to be! You do nothing to help me find my true love, and then you mock me when I do!” 

Despite the look, Eothain did not miss the jest in his words. Mock-bowing, he said, “My apologies, my king. It was very remiss of me! Besides, how can you claim I did nothing to help you? What do you think this ‘gift horse’ was all about?”

Feigning an angry demeanor, Eomer commented, “Yes, the gift horse of _mine_ that you so freely gave away, here in Dol Amroth when _you_ are _supposed_ to be in Edoras!”

Eothain shrugged. “I serve my king, wherever he may be, and in the manner I think in his best interest! Would you like me to take back your gift and find the lady another animal?” He arranged his facial features to as innocent a look as he could muster.

Eomer burst out laughing. “Yes, that would be so diplomatic! Take back a gift less than an hour after it has been given! No doubt Imrahil would then see fit to take back his permission to wed his daughter, in retaliation for my bad manners!”

With a sigh, Eomer grinned at his friend. “Because I am so happy, you are safe from repercussions for your actions… _this_ time! And Anlicferth is an excellent choice for Lothiriel. I should have thought of it myself and made the gift without your assistance.”

Laying an arm around the king’s shoulders, Eothain smirked in triumph. “And it is not like you are truly losing the animal. She will still be in the family.”

Eomer cuffed the back of his friend’s head and moved toward the Dol Amroth stables. “You need to learn better respect for your king.”

Trailing along behind, Eothain shook his head, saying sincerely, “On the contrary, I could not respect you more. And your chosen queen, as well.”

Eomer stopped to turn and look at him, then nodded. “I know. Thank you, my friend. For everything.”

_to be continued_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anlicferth = beautiful heart/mind


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Eomer and Lothiriel enjoyed the next few days they spent together in Dol Amroth. Whatever else he might feel about the sea, Eomer learned quickly to appreciate long strolls along the beach, holding hands with Lothiriel, and taking frequent breaks for kissing.

He did not care quite so much for the two boat rides that Amrothos and Erchirion persuaded him to join them on. He had heard tell of people becoming ill on the water, and while that did not befall him, he was not entirely comfortable sitting unsteadily in such a flimsy craft and surrounded by nothing but water. Even Lothiriel’s presence did not soothe him entirely and he was very relieved to return to shore. He only agreed to the second such outing because he knew Lothiriel enjoyed being with her brothers and sailing, and once they were in Edoras and married, he knew she would have little chance of it ever again.

Interspersed with their strolls and the boat rides, Lothiriel was hastily making ready to move her possessions to Rohan. Though he wasn’t much help with packing, Eomer sprawled in a chair and they talked while she and a maidservant sorted everything and got it tucked into baggage. Because of the pending stop in Emyn Arnen to see Eowyn, Lothiriel’s things were being sent by boat up the Anduin to wait for her in Minas Tirith rather than their having to bother packing them the extra distance.

After the announcement of their betrothal, the couple had encountered Lord Dorlion at a celebratory dinner gathering. Eomer found it much easier to approve of the man now that he was not a threat, and Lord Dorlion was gracious at the turn of events. Before the night ended, an agreement was reached for Lord Dorlion to head negotiations with Rohan on behalf of trade with Dol Amroth.

A few days later, the party set out. Amrothos accompanied the Rohirric group and his sister, serving as her chaperone, and the rest of the family would journey to Minas Tirith with her belongings for the trek to Edoras. Despite Lothiriel’s suggestion of the wedding taking place a month after their betrothal was announced in Dol Amroth, Imrahil had pressed them to add another fortnight to the waiting period. With the planned visit, hoping to welcome Faramir and Eowyn’s child into the world, he did not think it wise to anticipate keeping too tight a schedule. After four children, he knew all too well that they were born when they were ready, and not a moment sooner. Knowing Eowyn certainly would not be able to attend the wedding, Eomer and Lothiriel had conceded the point without argument, grateful to be able to spend more time with her so they could share in each other’s joy.

Because they would be seeing her, Eomer had not sent a wedding announcement to Eowyn and Faramir. He was expecting to surprise his sister, but when the couple met them on the front lawn of their home, Eowyn took one look at them and started laughing. 

Eomer gave her a puzzled look, but she just reached out to hug Lothiriel and asked her, “He finally woke up, did he?”

At first uncertain what the question meant, Lothiriel did not respond and Eowyn impatiently exclaimed, “Oh, do not play games with me! Do you think I cannot tell you two are in love! When is the wedding?”

Lothiriel began giggling, while Eomer eyed his sister suspiciously. “How could you possibly know that?”

In amusement, his sister explained, “Eomer, I know that look in your eyes. When you look at Lothiriel, it is the same way Faramir looks at me. If you have not asked her to marry you, I will beat you about your ears!”

Eomer flushed red, but grinned sheepishly as he slipped his arms around Lothiriel from behind. “Give me some credit, sister! Do you think I would waste any time making her mine once I knew my feelings? And by some miracle which I cannot fathom, she has agreed to have me.” He buried his face in his betrothed’s hair, nuzzling at her neck contentedly.

With a chuckle, Faramir interrupted their banter and suggested, “Perhaps we can continue this inside.” He indicated the nearby stable. “Your men can get the animals settled in there and I will send someone to get them quartered.”

Before they moved toward the house, however, Eowyn’s eyes fell on the horse Lothiriel had been riding. She squinted at it a moment, then asked, “Is that Anlicferth?”

Eomer nodded. “It is. Eothain was kind enough to gift her to Lothiriel for me.”

Eowyn’s eyebrow rose questioningly. “Eothain? Where is he and what does he have to do with this?”

Lothiriel made a face at Eomer and told the woman, “The King of Rohan ‘suggested’ his Marshal should return home since he was not supposed to be in Dol Amroth in the first place. I barely had time to visit with him!”

As they strolled up the steps and into the house, Eomer launched into a defense of his actions, as well as a more complete explanation of what had been taking place the past week or so. They had arrived mid-afternoon, and spent the time until supper talking and then continued afterwards, sipping wine by the fire until quite late.

The next day, everyone slept later than usual, with the exception of Faramir, who still had duties he needed to perform. Though he did not say so in so many words, Eowyn and Lothiriel were amused that Eomer seemed to think the baby would arrive promptly after he had put in appearance. Despite the warnings expressed by Imrahil, he still did not seem to grasp the uncontrollable nature of giving birth. In exasperation, Lothiriel finally asked, “Eomer, surely you know mares do not give birth on a schedule! Why would you think women do?”

Put that way, Eomer began to understand better and blushed in embarrassment. Still, not being an overly patient man, he found the waiting difficult. They were there nearly a week and Eowyn had given no indication she intended to give birth any time soon. Privately, Eowyn confided to Lothiriel that he simply did not like situations he could not control, and warned her to remember his behavior now when she began bearing his children.

The extra time given them was a blessing to Lothiriel, though. It gave her and Eowyn time to talk, and Eowyn repaid her earlier help by discussing the wedding night with her. Still, the blond woman admitted, she had never expected to be discussing such matters with someone who would be experiencing them with her brother.

Eomer grew increasingly restless as they waited, and a week after their arrival he awoke before dawn and decided to go for a ride to watch the sun come up. He slipped quietly from the house and moved to the stable, only using a bridle on Firefoot. He grinned after he rode past the guards into the woods. His own men would have stopped him, insisting he take an escort, but the Gondorian guards were reluctant to confront Rohan’s king and give him orders. He probably shouldn’t have used that fact to his advantage as he had, but he could not resist the chance to just ride unaccompanied, alone with his horse and his thoughts.

Fog hung in the early morning air and, after a while, he tied Firefoot to a tree and climbed a treeless outcropping of rock to sit and look out over the valley below as the sun rose slowly in the sky. He couldn’t identify any particular musings or thoughts while he sat there, but he knew a general sense of well being. He realized that, possibly for the first time in his life, he was truly and completely happy. Rohan was beginning to recover, his sister was married and happy, and less than a month from now he would have his beloved Lothiriel as his wife. 

Once his thoughts drifted in the direction of his betrothed, they would not be guided elsewhere, and soon he greatly desired to return to the house to be with her. He rose and took one last look over the valley turned pink with the sun’s first rays, then headed back down to Firefoot.

He had reached the bottom of the outcropping, and was starting across the clearing toward his horse, when he noticed a softness to the ground underfoot. He was not certain what he was feeling, but it did not take long for his question to be answered as the ground abruptly gave way under his feet. The first plunge threw him on his back, and before he could turn and scramble to safety, he was being swallowed along with the ground around him. Several terrifying minutes later, all was still.

For a time, Eomer just lay there, staring up at what sky he could see above him. The last drop had knocked the wind out of him, and in trying to steady himself as he fell, his foot had gotten painfully wrenched. As his breath returned, he tentatively moved his left leg, but stopped as soon as a sharp pain shot through his ankle. Careful not to move it, he slowly sat up and reached down to examine it. He did not think it was broken, but it certainly had to be badly sprained. Looking up at the walls of dirt around him, he knew he could never hope to climb out of this earthen pit with a bad ankle, and he laid back down dejectedly. There was nothing to do but wait. Sooner or later they would notice he was missing and come seeking him. When they did, they would find Firefoot and then him. Firefoot! He very much hoped this sinkhole had not claimed his horse as well. He had been quite some distance from him when it happened, so there was a chance it did not reach that far.

xxxxx

Lothiriel had been up for nearly an hour, when she became aware of Eomer’s absence. Since he was generally up earlier than anyone else, she was surprised when he wasn’t at the morning meal. Neither Eowyn nor Faramir had seen him, so for a while Lothiriel assumed he was still sleeping, but now she was beginning to worry that he might be ill. She went to his room and quietly opened the door but, to her surprise, he was not there. Now truly perplexed, her next thought was the stable. She quickly discovered that Firefoot was not in his stall, but none of the Eorlingas had seen him and they were all still there. Her eyes turned to the front gates of the property, and she went to inquire of the guards there. Though she had been expecting the answer she received, that Eomer had ridden out alone just before dawn and not yet returned, it did nothing to calm her. Turning on her heel, she headed to Faramir’s study.

Before she could reach it, however, she met Eowyn pacing the hallway and breathing in a very regulated manner. “Eowyn? Are you unwell?” she asked.

Eowyn continued walking, a crease of concentration on her forehead. “I am not sure. I have been having some pains now and then, and they seem to be getting more frequent. I think the baby may be about due.” A startled look came over her, and she looked down in an unwillingly manner to see a watery substance spreading over the floor. Trying to stay calm, she said, “My water has opened. You had best get the midwife for me.”

For a moment, Lothiriel was torn between the two tasks, but then dashed off to find the midwife. Once she had turned Eowyn over to the woman’s care, she could pursue finding Eomer. Less than a quarter hour later, she was knocking at Faramir’s study door and, not waiting for an answer, she charged inside.

Faramir looked up startled at her approach, but before he could ask her any questions, she came to a stop at the front of his desk and blurted out, “Eomer is missing! You must send men out to find him at once!”

He rose slowly, and came around the desk to take her hand. “What is this? What do you mean?”

Taking a quick steadying breath, she explained her efforts to find the king and the information she had obtained. “He would not stay gone this long if something were not the matter, Faramir. He went unescorted – he could have had an accident or been attacked. You must send men to find him!”

“Very well, calm down. I will take care of it, but do not be alarmed. Eomer is an experienced soldier and outdoorsman. He can take care of himself quite well. Now, why do you not...”

Lothiriel interrupted, “You must hurry, Faramir! There is no time to waste. Eowyn may be about to give birth and you cannot have your attention split between two matters!”

For a moment, Faramir just stared at her, the words not quite registering, but then he bolted past her out the door. Lothiriel had to lift her skirt and run in order to follow him as he hastened out the door to the stables.

He found Amrothos sitting with the men of Rohan, talking in the stables as they tended their horses. To the Eorlingas, Faramir instructed, “You men, come with me. I need you to fill in for my guards. They must go out and look for King Eomer.”

Folcgram, the leader of the King’s escort party, stepped forward. “With all due respect, my lord, it should be our responsibility to...”

Faramir cut him off. “Yes, I know – under normal circumstances. But you are not familiar with this country as my men are. They would have a better idea of where to look and are used to tracking in this terrain. I will explain it to Eomer when he is safely back with us. Now, please, do as I say. There is no time to waste.”

Folcgram looked uneasy. “You believe there is cause for alarm, my lord?”

Faramir was looking agitated at the delay, and Lothiriel pushed him toward the front gate to instruct his own men while she explained the situation to Folcgram. The Rider looked somewhat appeased by that and signaled his men to follow and take up their assignments as guards. Before they moved away, Amrothos told Folcgram, “I will accompany Faramir’s men to find Eomer.” The man nodded to him appreciatively before he strode after his men. Five minutes later, Amrothos and Faramir’s guard rode away as he and Lothiriel hurried back to the house to check on Eowyn.

Lothiriel had seen enough babies born to know that the birthing process could take many hours, so it was difficult for her to focus all her attention on Eowyn when her mind rested on Eomer. Some two hours later, the guard had not yet returned with Eomer and it was now very clear that the baby was definitely on its way.

Both Faramir and Lothiriel were pacing the room, each for different reasons, and in the few moments when not in pain, Eowyn realized something more than the birth of her child was taking place. She pressed Lothiriel for information, and although reluctant to burden her with this worry, she finally relented and explained the situation to Eowyn. Eowyn reached for her hand, and told her reassuringly, “Do not fret. I am sure he is well and will be back...SOON!” The last word was a shout and Lothiriel’s hand was nearly crushed in Eowyn’s grip as she was seized with another strong contraction.

Lothiriel was finally able to free her hand and retreated across the room to rub some feeling back into it, while giving Faramir a shove toward the bed. “It is your job to get your hand broken during this, not mine!”

A disturbance in the hall caught her attention just then, and Lothiriel scurried out to check, not daring hope it was Eomer. It was, but he was covered in dirt and being carried between two men, while Amrothos led the way. She followed them to Eomer’s room. They started to lay him on his bed, but she stopped them. As he was awake and did not seem to be seriously injured, she inquired of the trouble and learned about the lamed ankle. Directing them to sit him on a chair, she had them remove his filthy clothing and get him into something clean before putting him in the bed. While they did that, she went to fetch the healer, who was on hand for Eowyn’s delivery but not presently needed there.

Quickly, Eomer’s ankle was treated and bound, and while Lothiriel bathed his hands, head and neck, he told her what had happened. “Was Firefoot hurt?” she asked.

“Fortunately, no. He was far enough away that the sinkhole did not reach him.” Eomer sighed, leaning tiredly back against the pillows.

Lothiriel eyed his muddy hair a few moments and then sent a servant to fetch water, soap and a large tub. They awkwardly managed to maneuver him so he was situated with his head over the tub, and Lothiriel washed the dirt out of his locks. Fresh linens replaced those soiled where his head had been and he was soon back to resting. Another servant arrived with the tray of food Lothiriel had requested for him, and she explained how he had almost missed all the excitement.

It was all Lothiriel could do to keep Eomer in the bed and not racing down the hall to check on his sister. Pushing him back against the pillows, she ordered, “There is nothing you can do for her in her travail, and it will drive you out of your mind to stand there and listen to her cries of pain! You would do best to just lie still and wait. We will know when you have a new niece or nephew. It could be quite some time yet.”

Lothiriel spent the rest of the day at Eomer’s bedside trying, not altogether successfully, to keep him distracted. While he had been eating, she had had the healer slip her some sleeping herbs that she mixed in a goblet of wine. If there was any unusual taste to it, Eomer did not seem to notice. It took longer than expected, probably because he was resisting, but at length, Eomer relaxed into the pillows and was quickly asleep. Lothiriel smiled down on him and kissed his brow, whispering, “I am sorry, my love, but this truly is for the best. You need rest and to remain in bed, and I should be with Eowyn just now.”

Leaving a servant to keep an eye on him, she slipped out the door, casting one last loving look in his direction before moving down the hall.

xxxxx

Eowyn’s travail lasted the remainder of the day and into the evening. Amrothos had disappeared for a while, but when he returned and learned of the imminent birth, promptly made himself scarce. He had never been very good in a sick room, and he certainly had no desire to be near a woman giving birth. Instead, he spent his time with the Eorlingas, advising them of the Lady Eowyn’s status.

And then, at last, around midnight, she brought a son into the world. While Eowyn lay exhausted and pale on her bed, the midwife cleaned her and the baby, and then Lothiriel brought Faramir to meet his heir. Drawing the servants and midwife across the room with her, she afforded the happy couple a few moments of privacy to revel in their joy. 

It did not take long, however, for the midwife to become anxious to attend to her duties and Faramir stepped aside while she and the others continued their work with his little family. Lothiriel moved alongside him and slipped an arm around his waist. “Congratulations, Papa! He is a fine boy!”

Squeezing her shoulders in response, he agreed, “Aye, he is.” Turning, he kissed her head. “Thank you for your help in it. I know Eowyn was happy to have you near her for this.” They stood in silence several moments, and then he remembered the other crisis in his household. “How is Eomer? What happened to him?”

She explained all that had taken place and assured him the king would be fine. “Speaking of which, I should go see if he is awake and tell him your good news. And then I think I will get some sleep myself. Will you send someone to let the Eorlingas know? They would like to hear this good news also.” He nodded reassuringly and she stretched up to kiss his cheek. “See you in the morning, but call me in the night if Eowyn needs me.”

xxxxx

They remained another week at Emyn Arnen, admiring baby Elboron and giving Eomer time to recover somewhat before continuing the journey to Edoras. There had been mention of obtaining a carriage for Eomer, but his protest was so vehement that they quickly gave up on persuading him along those lines. However, Lothiriel knew that Alcathir would be riding in a carriage with her son, Alphros, on the road between Minas Tirith and Edoras, and she would sometimes be joining her sister-in-law to ease her pains from riding so long. She was counting on being able to convince Eomer to spend at least some part of the trek riding along with her and giving his ankle a rest.

Two days before their party departed for Minas Tirith, Eowyn and Lothiriel were enjoying a chat while the new mother nursed her son. Suddenly, Eowyn looked up at the other woman. “I have not asked about your wedding clothes. Have you a dress chosen? One thing about Rohirric wedding customs – they do not allow for a great deal of planning!”

Lothiriel seemed equally startled by the question and admitted, “I have not given the matter much thought yet, though I suppose I must do so sooner rather than later. What sort of dress would be suitable for such an occasion in Rohan?”

Eowyn thought a few moments, then said, “We do not stand on so much ceremony as Gondor does, but as you are marrying into the royal house, your requirements are somewhat different. As the new queen, you cannot wear anything too plain or simple. It must be of the finest materials. Have you a dress you are especially fond of which could be altered?”

Before Lothiriel could respond, Eowyn’s eyes lit up. “Oh – that green dress!”

For a moment, Lothiriel was not following her, but seeing her confusion, Eowyn explained, “The one you wore at Minas Tirith, the first night we arrived for my wedding. It was a dark green, with a softer green overgown. It was exquisite and Eomer could not take his eyes off you all night!”

Lothiriel blushed, not remembering that to be the case, but answered, “That _is_ one of my favorites. Yes, I suppose Alcathir could help me prepare the green dress, if you think it appropriate.”

A voice from the door asked, “Green dress? The one you wore at Minas Tirith a year ago? You were beautiful in that!” They looked up to see Eomer hobbling in, having caught the tail end of their conversation.

Eowyn grinned knowingly. “Then it is decided! That will be your wedding dress.”

Eomer looked surprised to learn what they had been discussing, but then nodded his approval. “It is a good choice.”

As Eowyn began to burp the baby, Lothiriel rose. “I will go get your food and then you can get some sleep while he naps.”

As she turned toward the door, Eomer followed her out, limping along on the crutch he had been given. He caught her hand once they were in the hall. They had walked a short distance in silence, when he pulled her to a stop and turned her to face him. Looking into her eyes, he cupped the back of her neck with his hand and told her softly, “The night you wore that green dress to the feast was the first time I really saw you. I had spent two months seeing you every single day, but not until I looked across the table and saw you wearing that, did I truly see you, and notice how beautiful you are.” Slowly he lowered his head and pressed a tender kiss to her lips.

It took a servant hurrying past, smiling down at her feet and trying not to stare at them, to get the pair back on track for taking Eowyn her meal, but if Lothiriel had any doubts about which would be her wedding dress, that kiss and his words had been the deciding factor.

_to be continued_


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tolkien never really gave us weddings to use as a pattern. As a result, writers envision whatever they like. For my part, some of my many Eomer/Lothiriel stories include a wedding and some do not, but when they do, I try to find something different to do with them. Thus, in different stories, you will see different particulars.

**Chapter 14**

Reluctantly, two days later, they hugged and kissed Faramir, Eowyn and little Elboron good-bye, and then they were on their way. By now, the wisdom of Imrahil’s decision to add the extra time to the schedule was evident. They were leaving only one day sooner than he had allowed for, and they were grateful for his foresight in the matter.

The group quickly made its way to Minas Tirith, to collect the Dol Amroth party and others wishing to travel with them to the festivities in Edoras. Upon their arrival in the White City, King Elessar arranged a quiet supper for family and friends as they would be departing the next morning for the longer part of the journey.

In the confusion of their getting settled into rooms, sharing the good news about the Steward’s new son and greetings all around, Lothiriel did little more than acknowledge the King and Queen of Gondor. It was not until supper had been eaten, and all were standing around talking afterwards, that the couple approached her.

Lothiriel was surprised to see the queen giving her a knowing smile, and she suddenly remembered the previous year when Arwen had housed her with the party from Rohan rather than her own family. A suspicion came upon her that perhaps the queen had not been entirely surprised to hear of her betrothal.

King Elessar was smiling warmly at Lothiriel. “So, Prince Imrahil tells me that the Gondorian Ambassador to Rohan wishes to be permanently stationed in Edoras. Is this true?”

Lothiriel blushed slightly and nodded. “It is, my lord.”

Elessar bowed his head pensively a moment, then raised his eyes to hers. “Very well, then. I give my consent to this arrangement. However, I must insist that said Ambassador keep me apprised of any changes of population in Rohan, specifically within the King’s household.” His eyes twinkled with mischief despite the serious expression on his face.

With a laugh, Lothiriel told him, “As you wish, my lord. I will make very certain you receive word when any increase is expected!”

Lothiriel caught the sound of Arwen’s musical laughter joining her own, and turned to the Queen. After a moment, she sobered slightly and observed speculatively, “You are not surprised by my decision to form a union with Rohan.”

Arwen gave a slight shake of her head. “My father has some measure of foresight, which I do not believe I have particularly inherited, but I may claim some slight advantage of perception. When I saw you with Eomer, and then you confided your intent to return to Rohan for a longer period, it was plain there was more than friendship and generosity at work.”

“But...you had arranged for me to be housed among the Eorlingas rather than my family even before we arrived,” Lothiriel mused, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Arwen shrugged. “A mere hunch, a shadow of feeling that led me to do so. I did not fully understand it until I saw you.”

Lothiriel smiled in return and pondered her words, then looked up, startled. “Then that is why you so vocally supported my decision to return to Rohan. Had you not done so, my father might never have agreed to it.”

Arwen nodded, smiling serenely in return. “There are advantages to being queen! I suspected your family would oppose it and thought my support might tip the scales in your favor.”

Lothiriel blushed slightly, but acknowledged fervently, “Then I am indebted to you. It was during that winter in Edoras that I came to realize my feelings for Eomer. And I am persuaded that his feelings began to change then also. Had we been separated after Eowyn’s wedding, it might not have come to this.”

To her surprise, Arwen reached over and pulled her into a hug. “And that would have been a great pity!”

xxxxx

The wedding party departed Minas Tirith just after the morning meal. Unlike the funeral trek for Theoden, the weather was pleasant and the excursion bore a festive mood the entire way.

Lothiriel had been able to convince Eomer to occasionally keep her company for a time in the carriage, though he continued to insist it was not necessary to his health. He had already given up using the crutch, though he still could not keep himself from limping. She was willing to accept whatever acquiesence she could get, whether he admitted any need or not. Once they were close to Edoras, however, both of them returned to their horses to ride into the city side by side.

As they drew near the gates of Edoras, Eomer pressed Firefoot in close upon Anlicferth. In one quick motion, his right arm shot out, caught Lothiriel around the waist and lifted her from the saddle. With a gasp, she flung her arms around his neck as he hefted her crossways onto the saddle in front of him, grinning mischievously.

“You were the one who suggested we do things by Eorling custom,” he teased. “Let me show you how the Rohirrim claim a wife!”

He nudged Firefoot into a slow canter up the hill. Lothiriel had expected him to stop at the steps to Meduseld, but instead Firefoot continued up until he reached the terrace. At that point, Eomer turned the stallion to face the crowd that had gathered, murmuring in excitement as they recognized the significance of their king’s actions. Eomer was silent, waiting for the rest of the party to ride up the hill and join them before he addressed the assembly.

“People of Rohan, I, Eomer, son of Eomund, King of Rohan and Lord of the Riddermark, have asked Lothiriel, daughter of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, to be my wife and queen, and she has consented. What say you to this?” he called out loudly so all could hear.

A rousing and enthusiastic cheer arose; they knew and liked the Lady Lothiriel. Not one to miss an opportunity, Eomer rakishly grinned down at his betrothed, and his arms tightened around her an instant before he favored her with a long and tender kiss. This brought forth more cheering, as well as a few catcalls and much laughter.

Eothain and Gamling stood nearby, but moved forward as Eomer lifted Lothiriel down from the saddle, and then dropped down himself. He balanced against Firefoot until Lothiriel moved next to him to provide support. Both of Eomer’s friends eyed him questioningly as they noticed him favoring his left ankle.

“An accident,” he told them curtly. “I will explain later. It is not serious.” Lothiriel rolled her eyes in their direction and Eothain restrained a snort of laughter. Knowing Eomer, they could amputate the entire lower half of his body and he would claim it was a minor flesh wound!

Eothain led Firefoot to the stables, while the king, Lothiriel and Gamling made their way into Meduseld. The wedding party that had accompanied them began relinquishing their horses to stable hands, and proceeded up the stairs to the Golden Hall.

Lothiriel was given the same room she had used previously, and the same maid was attending her. The maid babbled on incessantly about the general delight over the queen their king had chosen, and Lothiriel listened with quiet amusement. If Lothiriel had any concerns about how the people of Rohan would receive her as their queen, they were soon dispelled. Virtually everyone she had ever met at Meduseld made it a point to approach her, as the guests were being settled into rooms, and wish her well.

And it was not only the household staff who approved of her. At the feast that evening, the people of Edoras pressed eagerly forward to greet and congratulate Lothiriel on her betrothal. She was quite overwhelmed by the outpouring of goodwill toward her, and admitted such to Eomer when he found her catching her breath in a dark corner, sipping a goblet of wine.

He cocked his head to the side and asked, “Why does this surprise you? You have already provided great service to Edoras and Rohan, both with your counsel to me and the labor of your hands. Even if we were not to wed, there are few in Rohan who could ever think ill of the Lady Lothiriel of Dol Amroth.” He pulled her close, and whispered, “They loved you even before I did, but I promise my love is deeper despite its tardiness.”

Both could have gladly stayed hidden in the shadows the remainder of the night, enjoying their embraces and kisses, but Erchirion turned up a short while later, clearing his throat meaningfully. They broke apart from their kiss, but Eomer’s lips lingered on her forehead as she murmured to her brother in annoyance, “Erchirion, can you not go seek treatment for that throat ailment and leave us undisturbed?”

He chuckled, but caught at her elbow. “Come, sister! You are familiar with Edoras, so you can help me find that treatment...while Eomer has time to cool his passion! For another five days, you are still an unmarried lady and, even in Rohan, you will have to restrain yourself.”

She gave her brother a glare, but knew he only had her best interests at heart. Besides, if he did not retrieve her, then her father would be the next to come looking, and he would not be so lighthearted about it. Catching Eomer’s hand, she drew him after them as Erchirion led her back to the dancing.

The ensuing days were a bit of torture, as there was little to do but wait. Despite entertainments that were provided for the guests, Lothiriel found it difficult to concentrate on them, and Eomer was buried under meetings and work needing his attention, from his absence and in preparation for some private time once he was wed. 

Though not to their liking, at least the enforced separation caused by Eomer’s work made the waiting slightly easier, despite Lothiriel’s restlessness with having little to occupy her time. Alcathir had finished the beadwork on Lothiriel’s wedding gown that made it even more beautiful. Eomer had given Lothiriel leave to alter his bedchamber as she saw fit, for her future residence there, but for the time being she wasn’t terribly inclined to make many changes, rather enjoying its masculine ambience. Were it not so late in the fall, she might have been able to occupy some of her time in the garden, but the gardener had done an admirable job of continuing what she had begun; already it was prepared for the winter, so she could do little more than enjoy it. When he could, Eothain took her out on rides to places around Edoras, joined by any others who were inclined to come along.

And, finally, the wedding day arrived. The couple was kept apart the entire morning and ate the noon meal separately. Lothiriel had expected all the fuss and preparations to make her increasingly nervous, but the nearer the time of the ceremony came, the calmer she found she felt. As she pondered that, she recognized a sensation of almost relief that the time had at last come, and she was certain this was the course she truly wished to follow.

The people of the Mark were not ones for a great deal of pomp and circumstance, and though there was a formality and proscribed routine for marrying a king, the ceremony was actually rather brief and to the point. It did not take long at all for Lothiriel to find herself standing at Eomer’s side, a circlet of gold on her head, being accepted by the crowd as the new queen of Rohan. While the gathering enthusiastically approved her, she squeezed Eomer’s hand. Being queen was all very well and good, but most important to her was the knowledge that she was now his wife.

Eomer’s thoughts seemed to be moving along the same lines, and when he turned and swept her into a kiss, it was far from chaste or polite, and definitely hinted at things to come. A few moments later, and all were drawn into the chaos of the wedding feast, the subsequent dancing and general revelry.

Several hours into the evening, the assembly showed little sign of slowing their celebration, but Lothiriel was beginning to flag. Though Eomer’s ankle had prevented his dancing with her, many others had. Despite her calm, it had been a long and tiring day, and there was still the night to come. As if reading that last thought, Eomer appeared at her side and caught her hand, raising it to his lips and kissing her knuckles.

His eyes held a question, which hers readily answered in the affirmative. Drawing her after him, he led her, to her surprise, to the front doors of Meduseld. When it was clear they were exiting, she hesitated. “Should we let them know we are leaving?” She glanced back to see that no one yet seemed to have noticed.

“They will figure it out soon enough,” he murmured, bending close to her ear and kissing her neck. “I assure you, we will not be missed.”

As her stomach lurched in excitement, she willingly turned to follow him once more. The sight of Firefoot, saddled and standing on the front terrace with Eothain, brought her to a halt. “What is this?” she asked, both amused and bewildered.

Eomer mounted and then lifted her in front of him, stealing another kiss before answering. “Apparently you failed to read _all_ of our customs of marriage. We ride in and claim our bride, and then we ride away with her,” he whispered, teasingly.

She grinned in anticipation, not completely sure where this was leading, but trusting Eomer completely. Eothain relinquished his hold on Firefoot’s bridle, and told them, “My king...my queen, I bid you a good night. We will see you...in a few days!” Laughing, he turned and made his way inside as Eomer urged the stallion down the steps.

For a while, Lothiriel was too wrapped up in the adventure to give the matter much thought, but the farther they rode in the darkness, the more curious she became. “Eomer, where are we going? Surely you cannot leave Edoras unescorted.”

He just grinned at her in the moonlight, but did not answer. A short time later, he rode into the small yard of a pleasant little cottage. After staring at it a few moments, she finally was able to identify the place. “This is Eothain’s house.”

“It is, but for tonight, and however long we choose afterwards, it is our hideaway. Tonight, and always in my heart, we are just a man and woman who are deeply in love, and have just been married. Eventually the king and queen must return, but not just yet...” Eomer murmured. He began to pepper her face with kisses, drawing her close against him. It was difficult to think, with all the new sensations racing through her, but with effort she finally whispered, “My love, I think I would enjoy this discussion far more if we went inside and made ourselves comfortable!”

He broke off his ministrations, smiling into her neck. “Aye! I believe I must agree!” After helping Lothiriel down, Eomer slid to the ground to join her. With a pat on his shoulder, Eomer directed Firefoot, “Head on home, my friend. They will be waiting for you.” With a snort, the stallion turned, then broke into a trot back toward the barn.

With a whoop of joy, Eomer swept his bride up in his arms, laughing, and then moved toward the door and the start of their future together.

_THE END_

9/5/05 – 11/6/05

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Note: In case you’re wondering, sprained ankles take two to four weeks to heal completely, depending on how severe they are. By the day of the wedding, it has been about three weeks since Eomer’s accident. He is mostly well, but the ankle is still a little sore. It hampers his mobility a bit, but not appreciably, which is fortunate because writing that crutch into the finale kind of put a damper on the romance!_


End file.
